Fake
by Vega62a
Summary: A continuation of sorts of MariMite. Sachiko has graduated, and as her arranged marriage looms over her shoulder even her house seems like a prison now. Rated for yuri probably not so much implied as shoved in the reader's face. Story now complete.
1. Prologue

Author's notes (Mine tend to be rather lengthy; you can mostly disregard them if you don't like reading A/Ns):

"Please take care of me" as read below would be the English equivalent of _yoroshiku onegaishimasu _in Japanese, as opposed to some bizarre English monstrosity that I pulled out of my arse this morning. The intent is to imply formality. Were I less lazy or pretentious or whatever, I'd think of a translation that slides better into western ears.

Much of my information is taken from the manga, but it's my opinion that the Anime isn't really different than the manga, just less complete. Feel free to PM me with any complaints, though; I'm always open to constructive criticism.

I'm aware that the OVA has yet to be released, at least in a format that I can understand, so if it _is _released as such before this fic ends, I'm not sure what's going to happen. Just to warn you all. Yes, that means this fic _will _be long.

And finally, while I generally refuse to put Japanese nominatives in an English fanfiction, I'm going to have to make an exception for "Sa-chan", as phrased by Kashiwagi, and _onee-sama, _as spoken by others. There's just no good way to translate it, and it's too important to leave out. Sorry, all.

Disclaimer: My editor, Sumiregawa Nenene, did her best to make this fic something that a human could read without clawing their eyes out. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Also, I don't own Maria-sama ga Miteru.

Reviews are always appreciated!

* * *

_Here I know / how it feels / to be misunderstood / to reach for the sky / I thought you never would / you don't know how it feels / to be misunderstood / to reach for the sky, I thought you never would_

_But I'm bleeding, and my hands are bruised / from the grip that I once had on you / and I'm open for a new way / cause there's not much more that I can fake_

* * *

Fake

A _Maria-sama ga Miteru _story

* * *

Prologue

_You love him, don't you? _she said. _It must be hard to marry the one you love when you know they don't love you in return. _

_Please remember that this marriage has been arranged by your parents, and that any difficulties might upset them greatly, _he said. _They are providing us with much to be thankful for, so you would do well to begin being thankful now. _

_If you're determined to go to university, then Suguru will, as well, so that you can be together there, _they said._ This union will not wait for some useless scrap of paper displaying your knowledge to the world like a cheap banner. _

None of them really understood. But of those who did not understand, only Yumi came within a field's length of understanding. Only Yumi.

Suguru didn't understand that it wasn't the word _marriage _that had hurt her when he said it. It was the word _arranged. _It was the way he said it like it was something normal, but normal like a pap smear was normal. Normal and not spoken of.

Her relatives, the key members of the Ogasawara group; they didn't understand that she wasn't going to university to escape what they wanted her to be. It was to try and merge that with what it was that _she _wanted to be.

_And Yumi..._

Yumi didn't understand how she could be both right and wrong at once. She didn't understand the depths of Sachiko Ogasawara's hatred for Suguru Kashiwagi, nor the magnitude of her love for him. Nobody understood that, least of all Sachiko herself, though certainly not for lack of trying. The true issue was not her hatred for men, after all. It was her hatred for the men she loved.

Her grandmother had told her before she died that it was a family trait.

If that was true, Sachiko wasn't sure she wanted to be a part of her family anymore. Not that she could escape it; running away from rich people was even harder than running away from taxes, because rich people were allowed to be ruthless, while the government forced itself to limit its methods to 'methodical', only half of the two necessary ingredients for ruthlessness.

Sachiko didn't know what the second ingredient was, but she had been told that being the trophy wife to a very rich, very powerful man would soon teach her. She wasn't sure she wanted to learn. Maybe that was why she wanted to go to get a degree in Japanese Literature, and then move on to a Master's degree in Japanese Language with an emphasis in creative writing. So that she could write her own definition of what _ruthless _was.

Or maybe she just wanted to have someplace to retreat to. The true blessing of the learned is that they can always retreat to their learning; the higher pay is just icing on the cake.

These were things that Sachiko Ogasawara contemplated silently over her tea, every night before bed. She contemplated them, and other things, in front of her fiancé, and he never knew, because he never cared to find out. He had told her many times that he loved her, and she thought that maybe he had even meant it once or twice, but it had never been enough to allow him access to her bed; not that he would want such a thing, in any case. She knew that on their wedding night, they would probably have to do their matrimonial duty to each other—if only because _both _families would be watching them so closely that they might as well be in the room with them—and, failing some ovarian curse, that would be the only time that they would even sleep in the same room.

Tonight was no different from any other summer evening: The sky had melted into a full, rich hue of dark, dark blue, splattered with myriad shadows of white clouds which contrasted the moon and the dim stars with sometimes breathtaking beauty.

It was breathtaking to Sachiko, anyway. She didn't know how her fiancé felt about it, because she, like him, never cared to find out.

He sometimes spoke of it, as he did tonight. "The moon is lovely tonight, don't you think?" he said, his deep, rich voice as soothing to her as it was repulsive. "Although the clouds make it seem like it will rain soon."

"Yes," she replied, falling back on the training that the Lillian School for Girls had supplied her. "It is." That one irreplaceable truth, the ultimate fall-back option: If you have nothing to say, or if you do not wish to speak to the person who demands that you speak to them, simply agree pleasantly with whatever it is that they are talking about. They will think, _ah, what a fine lady, _and you may think whatever it is that you like. Sachiko had many things to think about, some of which did in fact concern Suguru, of which very few were particularly flattering.

_And what about you? _The thought appeared in her head without warning. _If he retreats to his..._she had often pondered what to call a male mistress, however, and had yet to come to a conclusion…_to satisfy his …needs—_

—a lady does not speak of such things in public—

_Where will you satisfy yours?_

Sachiko thought first, ironically enough, of Sei Satou. Certainly not due to any lasting impressions the girl had made on her, either romantically or sexually; she would be more likely to seek out Youko's help if all it was was _sex, _or even some sweet illusion of love, that she would be looking for. No, she thought of Sei because of how she knew Sei would react if she were to simply show up at her doorstep and beg for Sei's affections for the night: Sei would simply smile, invite her inside, and hug her gently for a minute or two, and then remark, in a way that was not snide but was equally not polite or coddling, that she should probably go talk to Yumi, and that she, Sei Satou, would even be so kind as to escort her over to make sure she got there without angsting all over too many random passer-by. She wouldn't mean any of the hurtful comments; she would just say them, because that was how she was; but at the same time, Sachiko's pride would be satisfied by what would inevitably turn into a form of repartee, if only because Sachiko would never, ever "angst all over" anybody.

And then…just maybe…

"Sa-chan?" her fiancé said with a note of concern to his voice. She looked up at him and smiled politely. _Suguru Kashiwagi, 19_, she thought musingly._ Very nice to meet you for this business venture. Please take care of me while I rip your sill-beating heart from your chest and consume it whole. _"I'm going to bed." The note was gone. Maybe it had never been there.

_Funny, _she thought. _For a moment, he even sounded concerned. _

"Good night," she said. "Sleep well." _Simply agree politely…_

_Bitterness is unbecoming of a lady._

He smiled. "I trust you will as well. Please don't stay up too late, or you'll be tired tomorrow."

For a moment, Sachiko recognized something in his voice, something familiar to her; perhaps they had taught him how to be a proper lady at that boys' school of his as well?

She wasn't allowed to smile at that thought until he was out of sight.

As soon as he was gone, she leaned back in her chair, just slightly, allowing her neck to crane backwards so that she could see the stars more easily; they really were beautiful tonight.

_I want to go for a drive, _Sachiko thought without warning. _I want to drive as far away from here as I can, and I want to see the stars from somewhere outside this_

compound

_house. _

Unfortunately, Sachiko Ogasawara could not drive. People drove her places; butlers, chauffeurs, people like that. _On one occasion, even Su…even Kashiwagi drove me somewhere. _An incident she was not likely to repeat. Ever.

_Can I walk somewhere, instead? _She wondered, and then immediately chastised herself for it. _One does not simply walk out of prison. _There were limits as to where she could go. Boundaries. Far ones, yes; her family owned a large stretch of land, and nobody was likely to stop her from wandering about, but there were walls eventually, and security guards. The Ogasawara family was not known for its trusting sentiments. Perhaps earlier, she would have been allowed to simply leave. Before she expressed an interest in going to University, anyway.

_Or perhaps simply before they planned the wedding date._

That word forced her stomach into a knot every time it passed through her mind; _wedding._

Suguru had said to her, _if this is to be a marriage of convenience, then we can be married without interfering in each other's lives. _Maybe that didn't bother him, but then, she thought privately, in the same part of her brain that nurtured her devout Catholicism, Suguru also stopped, put his hands together, and said a brief prayer in front of a statue of Buddha every morning during his thirteen years of mandatory schooling.

_But that's not the only reason you don't want to marry him…_

Maybe it was pretentious of her to think something like that, or maybe even something worse than that, but, ironically, it had been one of her most treasured thoughts ever since her marriage had been announced to her by her parents.

_And maybe…just maybe, it's a little hypocritical of you, too. _

Oddly enough, this had become one of her most treasured thoughts of late, too.

The voice that interrupted her thoughts was respectful, yet utterly disinterested. It was their head butler's foremost talent. "Miss Sachiko? There is a phone call for you."

_Ah, yes. The Ogasawara family's most recent invention: The phone servant._ They had rerouted all calls to a single phone, which could then be transferred to any other phone in the house. They paid a man (or woman, Sachiko had no idea) to answer this phone and transfer it to the nearest available butler, who would give it to whoever was asked for. The phone-servant would do this, but their prime function, Sachiko knew, was to remember the voice and relate it to a caller-ID. Perhaps her relatives were now concerned that she was getting illicit phone calls from her…

_ex-_

petite seour? The thought made her want to smile.

_A lady should move slowly and deliberately. The hem of her skirt should always be tidy. _

Indeed, even now, Sachiko was wearing a skirt, and it was, indeed, tidy, as she stood from her seat, gently, and walked slowly to the head butler, who displayed no impatience. He handed her the phone when she stopped moving, and then bowed and vanished somewhere.

"Ogasawara residence," she said politely, even though she knew whoever she was speaking to had heard it already from the phone-servant. "This is Sachiko speaking."

"Sachiko!" the voice maintained just the vaguest hint of the kind of formality that she would have expected of the girl on the other end of the line, the only girl in existence that could possibly have made her smile in quite the way that she was suddenly smiling now. She had, after all, trained her _petite seour _better than this.

"How many times," Sachiko said gently, allowing the grin on her face to extend to her voice, "must I remind you to call me _onee-sama_, Yumi?"

"I—I'm sorry, _onee-sama_," Yumi seemed a bit taken aback, which was to be expected of the girl. She had a tendency to react rather exaggeratedly to most anything. "I called because I wanted to ask…ah…" she broke off; her nervousness was practically radiating off of her voice. Sachiko could envision just about exactly what her face looked like right then.

All at once, Sachiko had about a million things she wanted to say to Yumi. It had been nearly a month and a half since her graduation, and she hadn't had a chance to see Yumi since then, and all of a sudden, her head was filled with words.

She spoke none of them. Rather, she said, "What was it you wanted to ask me, Yumi?" gently. _Prompt, but do not demand. _What's up _and _what is it _are not acceptable ways to begin a conversation. _

At some point, the line between what her family and what Lillian taught her about being a lady had blurred in her mind; she could no longer distinguish between the two.

"Oh! Yes!" Yumi blurted. Sachiko could hear her forcing her voice to be something other than a blurt, and after a moment, she continued, more controlled this time, "I called because I wanted to …to invite you to come on a picnic with Yoshino, Shimako, Rei, and I. On the, ah…the day after tomorrow."

It was strange. Yumi had improved vastly in her discipline in her second year at Lillian; she would rarely have made this much of a fool of herself there. Somehow, this warmed Sachiko's heart just a little.

She didn't allow herself to react that way to the invitation, however. "I would very much like to," she replied calmly, and from there, the details were worked out in an unexciting manner; They would all make their respective ways to the bank of a river not far from Sachiko's house—really, the driveway would be the bulk of her trip—and eat there at one in the afternoon. After that, they would retire to the house of someone with whom Sachiko was familiar—a friend of her grandmother's, who had seen her just before her passing—and have tea there.

Sachiko made her promises, and hung up shortly after. Somehow, the head butler was there only a moment after the phone _beeped _off to take it from her. Perhaps this should have unnerved her, but it didn't. Not now.

She was going to see Yumi, after all.

For the first time in more than a month, she was going to see Yumi.

_Yumi._

Then she banished the thought and went back outside to consider the stars for a moment longer. They seemed, somehow, even more inviting than they had before.

Sachiko slept peacefully that night. Moreso than she had in weeks, and though she looked, the next day, precisely the same as she had the day before, she was utterly different inside.

_Yumi._

_

* * *

_Thanks for reading!The next chapter will be around sometime in the not-terribly-distant future!_  
_


	2. 1: Shine Down

Author's notes:

I should apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter out. If you look at my other fics, something you'll notice is that my plots are generally event-driven, whereas Marimite as an entity necessitates a certain degree of character-driven plotting. This is my first fiction of the sort, and while I'm having a great time at it, it's very hard for me. I hope you bear with me while I adjust!

Reviewer's corner:

Thanks to all of you who reviewed my first chapter! WhiteRoseGrl23, jcole, TenshiNoOngaku, Magician, m.tsuda, kare-cat, Xally, FooBarBaz, betsunii, sveta89, and CarrotLunch! You all get cookies. And, you know, your bribe money.

I jest. On with the show.

Disclaimer: My editor, Sumiregawa-kun, is also my Wise Old Mistress of Marimite facts. It is, however, my responsibility to incorporate her wisdom into my fics, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Also, I don't own Maria-sama ga Miteru.

I hate sticking Japanese in my fictions, but once again, I find it unavoidable, so here are your translations:

_Onee-sama: _ Big sister. Used by _petite soeurs _at Lillian to address their _grande soeurs. _Very formal.

--

_So tired / sleeping through the day / bloodshot eyes and / the sweat from my body / and I picked my head up yesterday / found no reason or hope left inside of me._

_But I still believe in immortal love / and I know there's someone who's up above / and shine down / just give me a chance to feel it_

_--_

Chapter 2

Shine down

The bulk of the next day passed largely without incident, and although Sachiko was so overflowing with excitement that she came very close to walking quickly when the phone rang around seven in the evening, overall she did not act much differently than she usually did. In any case, neither the butlers nor Suguru noticed any change in her.

The phone was answered by the phone servant before she could possibly have reached it, even at an unthinkably fast mild trot. She managed to slow down before anybody noticed, and it turned out that the phone wasn't for her anyway. It was for her mother, who was out for the week.

A few minutes later, Sachiko retreated to the patio, finding Suguru strangely absent; typically, they spent this part of the evening here. Had he, perhaps, gone out for the evening? Sachiko wondered briefly how he had managed to sneak past the servants who doubled as door guards, before finally concluding that he probably hadn't gone out so much as locked himself in one of the house's many rooms. He did that sometimes; he did it more when the house was as it was now, empty save for the servants and

_is he hiding from _

herself.

Sachiko shook her head, trying to remind herself of how unconcerned she was. He wasn't here, and that was the important thing. She was unthreatened. She could do what_ she _wanted to do, in the kind of peace and quiet that she privately believed every sane human should seek; the perfect, dead silence of the night. That, in fact, had been why her family had chosen to build their manor so far away from the main road; it was near-impossible to hear even the noisiest of cars passing by the front gate from where Sachiko was now.

After a moment's consideration, Sachiko stood and switched the patio light off, bathing her in nearly perfect darkness. As she settled back into her chair, she felt the silence overwhelm her even further, and not unpleasantly—she felt her muscles relax, felt her mind untwist itself; as though the disruption of the patio's protective light had allowed the night's tranquility to extend just that much further into Sachiko.

A moment later, however, the night erupted into noise; a simple, electronic tone filled the air with its rigid, flat impression of Beethoven's 8th Symphony, and it took Sachiko a moment to realize that it was coming from the pocket of her nightgown. She quickly reached in, wondering why in the world she had placed her cellular phone in her nightgown for a moment before remembering that it was because she had been waiting for Yumi to call. She flipped it open and glanced momentarily at the Caller-ID.

_Youko Mizuno, _it said; if she felt any immediate discontent, she forced it to the bottom of her throat as she accepted the call and placed the phone gently to her ear, brushing her hair out of the way with her unused hand. "Yes," she said, _Ogasawara residence…no. _"Sachiko Ogasawara speaking."

"Sachiko?" Youko's voice was as flat and subtly interested as it had always been. "This is Youko Mizuno." _Ladyship for the new age: Even though they can read your name as plain as day off of their screen; even if they knew exactly who they were calling as they dialed, you must always introduce yourself as though you were meeting them for the first time in many years. _"It's been a while." _Youko doesn't ask how people are doing. _

"It has. I hope you're well?" _Even if you are as close as the petals on a rose, you will still speak to your_ onee-sama _as though she were a priest. Even if it is your first meeting in years, you will not become overexcited. You will speak as calm and evenly as a lady always should. _

"I am. My summer classes have just let out, and I'm quite enjoying my newfound freedom, though my fall classes will start soon." _That's right. Youko is considering medical school, so she's taking a lot of classes right now. She's—_

_—even if you come upon your best friend, intimate with the man you love, you will not allow jealousy to touch your lips—_

"That's good."

"And what about you?" Oddly enough, Youko's voice seemed, to the well-trained ear, almost slightly miffed. "Have you made plans to attend a university?"

Sachiko was strangely grateful to her old friend and _grande soeur _for asking the question. "Yes, I have," she said. "I'm planning on attending the University of Kyoto in the spring."

"Oh?" Youko sounded genuinely interested. "To study what?"

"I'd like to study literature. And after that…" Sachiko hesitated, toying briefly with the idea of confessing to her _grande soeur _that she wanted to learn to write. Not that it wasn't a desirable profession for a lady; only that it wasn't a desirable profession for _her. _For Sachiko Ogasawara, heir to the Ogasawara Group and all of its fortune and wealth, trophy wife, and future recipient of the vaunted _quiet life. _Youko knew better than anybody that Sachiko wanted a _quiet life,_ but not quite _that _quiet of a life. Youko knew better than anybody that Sachiko was not a trophy wife.

She knew it better, perhaps, than even Sachiko herself.

"What did you want to do after that?" Youko gently prompted, but did not demand.

Still, Sachiko hesitated. This felt to Sachiko strangely like she had felt when she had first realized that Suguru wasn't interested in her not because he was interested in another woman, but because he was interested in another _man. _

_It also feels strangely like…_

"I'd like to pursue my Master's in Japanese Language with an emphasis on creative writing. I think I'd like to write for a living."

_That's not even remotely true, _Sachiko thought as soon as she said it. The truth was, Sachiko had no idea what she wanted to do for a living; it was almost universally common in university pre-first years; very few of them ever really had a grasp on exactly what it was they wanted to do or be. Sachiko only knew what she'd be _allowed _to do, and she knew that out of all of those things, writing seemed the most enjoyable. _To write your own definitions. _She had previously tried her hand at it once or twice, and while the quality of her work had been praised by Suguru, who had

_been in my room_

found it laying around, thanks to a careless mistake by Sachiko, the experience had been so emotionally and mentally exhausting, and she was still not sure that she wanted to have to do something like that for the rest of her life. She only knew that she _could, _which had tipped the scales in her decision.

"Really," Youko said without the slightest hint of enthusiasm; a clear sign of disbelief if ever there was one. "That's wonderful. I must say, though, that I'm rather surprised that you were able to decide this all of a sudden."

"All of a sudden?" _Can a question be a lie?_

"Yes," Youko said. "It's just that I seem to recall quite clearly how gracefully you managed to avoid the question every time somebody asked you about your plans for the future. What was it that you used to say?" She paused for a moment, and Sachiko sighed, waited for her to say it.

_I'm really not sure where precisely I want to direct my life at this point, although I plan on going to the University of Kyoto, and I'm certain that I'll decide soon, thank you for asking._

"Sa-chan?" To say that Suguru's voice, coming from behind Sachiko, startled her would be an understatement. At his words, her eyes flew fully open, and her mind immediately reeled, unable to focus and tell her, _it's just Suguru, calm down _as her free hand clenched itself into a fist.

It was Youko's voice that undid the temporary knot of panic that formed in her head. "Oh my," she said, "is that Kashiwagi I hear? What would he be doing there?"

"He lives here now," Sachiko said quickly. "Please hold on for a moment." She allowed herself to relax, and then covered the mouthpiece on the cellular phone as best she could, turned to Suguru, and said, "What is it?"

"Yumi Fukuzawa is on the phone for you," he said with a small grin that was contradicted utterly by the small look of concern in his eyes. "Who is on the phone?"

"Youko Mizuno. Could you ask Yumi to hold for a moment? I'll take the phone shortly." _Why did he come out to tell me himself? Did he kill the phone-servant? _She mused, a bit humored.

"Very well," he said, and then exited with a grace befitting of a lady's stature.

This thought probably caused the mild note of amusement in Sachiko's voice when she said, "Pardon me, Youko, but I have a call from Yumi on the other phone."

Youko seemed disinterested in this, but rather focused on Sachiko's voice. "You sound amused," she pointed out. "What is it?"

Suddenly, Sachiko desperately wanted to tell Youko about her seemingly running joke about Suguru. She wanted Youko to laugh about it with her, and tell her…tell her _something _about something related yet inconsequential that would make Sachiko want to laugh as well. Sachiko would, of course, hold her own laugh in, but she would feel it nonetheless, building at the back of her throat, tickling her lungs pleasantly, but more important than that, comfortingly. Youko had an unacknowledged ability to turn a conversation in virtually whatever direction she wanted it to go in, and to provoke nearly whatever reaction she desired from her audience. It helped, of course, that she was an excellent public speaker.

None of this happened, of course. Rather, Sachiko said, quietly, "Nothing. It's nothing. I simply felt the urge to cough; excuse me."

"Of course." It seemed as though statements which asserted nothing, yet were lies nonetheless were becoming increasingly common. "I suppose you shouldn't keep your _petite soeur _waiting for too long, should you?"

Something about the way that Youko said _petite soeur _made Sachiko uncomfortable, but she couldn't put her finger on _what_, precisely. "No, I shouldn't. I'm very sorry to cut you short." _When an apology is as common as punctuation, as routine as formalities, does that make it any less sincere? Was it sincere in the first place? _Sachiko felt that this would be a question that would haunt her for a long, long time to come, and therefore resolved not to think on it any longer; at least, not yet.

"Not at all," Youko said. "I will call back again sometime."

"I'll look forward to it." _That, _at least, wasn't a lie. As little as they had done it during her time at school, speaking with her _grande soeur _was something Sachiko genuinely enjoyed. It was like talking with …with a close sibling.

_Like talking with a big sister._

Not that Sachiko would know anything about that.

A click, and Youko was gone. A moment later, the phone servant, alive and apparently unhurt (though Sachiko still felt a small niggle in the back of her head tell her to check his wrists for cuff marks ) was behind her with a cordless phone in his hand, the mouthpiece covered. Sachiko nodded her thanks and put the receiver to her ear with a small burst of excitement that she mercilessly squashed.

"Yumi?" she said. "I'm sorry to have made you wait." _When an apology is as routine as formality…_

_It can still be sincere. _

"It's no problem," Yumi said cheerfully. She was, by Sachiko's observation, completely unfazed by her wait, something Sachiko could only marvel at. "I'm sorry to have called so late."

"It's not that late," Sachiko said a bit too quickly. Yumi said nothing about the slip. "What was it that you called about?"

"I wanted to confirm our plans for the picnic tomorrow; is one in the afternoon still okay?"

"Of course," Sachiko said gently. She desperately wanted to add, _it's not like I'm doing anything else, _but couldn't, left rather to hope against hope that Yumi would pick up on it without any sort of hinting from her. In short, she was praying for a sudden wave of ESP to strike her _petite soeur._

And it did. "Are you alright, _onee-sama?_" Yumi's concern was genuine, and because of that it was astoundingly refreshing. Yumi was typically refreshing in that way.

_If being refreshing becomes as common as punctuation…_

Another question that needed no answer. Sachiko couldn't help but grin a little. "Of course I am, Yumi. Of course I am."

"I'm glad." And she very obviously was. "So, tomorrow at one, is that alright?"

"Yes, that's exactly it. Will you have any trouble with that?"

"None. It's settled."

"It is."

A moment of silence formed between them, and the niggle started working at the back of Sachiko's head again.

_Say it, _it said. _Say it to her this time. You said something like it once before. Say it. _

Sachiko didn't argue, but she didn't obey either. It was harder than it seemed, and she had no idea where Suguru was, and even though _saying it _wouldn't present any sort of news to him, she was still loathe to admit _anything _around the man, much less something important.

_You still act like Suguru is your enemy. He's not. None of this is his fault. He's as trapped and helpless as you are._

_And even so…_

_Say it._

She couldn't. She knew it. Not on the phone. Not in her home. She couldn't.

She would have to make do. "I'm very glad that you called, Yumi," she said. "And I'm glad that you invited me, too."

"I'm sorry I couldn't call sooner." This could have meant many things, but Sachiko was content to assume it meant all of them. "I missed you, Sa--_onee-sama_."

She was beginning to slip like that more frequently, and it made Sachiko secretly happy.

_Very _secretly.

--

"Where are you going tomorrow?" Suguru's voice cut Sachiko like a length of piano wire. Sachiko had overcome the urge to be defensive long ago; more than a decade ago, in fact, so she was able to take this with the kind of grace and calm that had won her the admiration of a good portion of her old classmates. "I didn't hear anything about this."

"I'm surprised you heard about it at all," Sachiko said evenly, "considering that I hadn't told you anything of it."

Suguru shrugged. "That's why I'm asking where you're going; because you didn't tell me anything about it."

"Just down to the river off the edge of our property. My _petite soeur _and I are going to have a picnic there, and then have tea with an old friend. Is that a problem?" Loosely translated: Do you think you can justify having a problem with that?

"Not at all. I'm simply surprised that you hid this from me."

"I apologize for not informing you sooner, but I had no intent of hiding anything from you. I'm sorry." _When apologies are as routine as formalities…_

"Of course," Suguru said, with a note of spite in his voice that Sachiko didn't understand in the least. "Enjoy yourself tomorrow." And then he was gone, leaving Sachiko fairly well baffled. She had never seen him act like that before.

_ You did once._

_We're not thinking about that, though._

Unfortunately, Sachiko spent a large portion of the rest of the night thinking about that.

The worst part was, of course, that she could barely gather from the scattered fragments in her brain what _that _was.

--

Or cuts from piano wire –Takashi Miike speaking through this author.

A/Notes: Something I'm beginning to realize as I write this is how easy it is to fall into the trap that formality and politeness presents within conversation; it's very easy to find something to say when you were brought up like Sachiko was, and yet at the same time, when you find this to say, you're saying nothing at all. It's a burden and a bane, to smack you with the old cliché.

I just thought I'd share that with you. I can't promise anything about the next chapter. I'll try as hard as I can, though! Look forward to it!


	3. 2: Rain

When Sachiko angrily corrects, "_Miss_ Fukuzawa," you may liken that to "Fukuzawa-_sama_," as though the butler had said, "Fukuzawa-san" or simply, "Fukuzawa."

Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always!

--

_Rain, rain, go away / come again another day / all the world is waiting for the sun_

--

Chapter 2

Rain

Sachiko had never really formed an opinion about the rain until the day of her picnic with Yumi. Until that point, rain had meant an umbrella and a change of socks at the day's end. Maybe she would have to pay attention to where exactly her skirt went. Maybe it would be muggy afterwards. Maybe she'd need a jacket because it was cold.  
_maybe yumi will run_ _to_

Simple things. Rain was an inconvenience at worst, and relaxing to listen to at best.

Today, though. Today rain was something evil, a Satan-spawned plague brought on by too much pornography and cursing and not enough prayer by the world at large; rain was something to be hated and feared. Rain was…_her in the rain again not me _

Rain was beginning to tickle the cement directly in front of Sachiko, slowly, steadily changing its color to that strange color, impossible to label, that was nothing more than a darker, more translucent version of itself. It was raining.

At first, Sachiko's mind didn't register the consequences of the current weather situation. It listed through all of the little things automatically; she subconsciously considered the need for an umbrella if she were to leave the house; how many changes of socks she had left in her drawer; whether pants or a skirt would be more acceptable for the day's wear. Perhaps this withdrawal into routine was her mind's way of reeling in shock. Maybe Sachiko was just a difficult person to really bother.

Or maybe not. A few moments later, it hit her, all at once, full in the face: _It's raining.  
__We can't have a picnic in the rain.  
__Our plans are ruined. I'll have to  
_cancel  
_call Yumi  
_again  
_and then there will be all the hassle of rescheduling a date after the ground has dried and she'll probably just want to call the whole thing off and_

"Sa-chan?" Suguru's pleasant, cautious voice didn't so much startle her out of her halfway-panicked reverie as it engaged her reflexive politeness.

"Yes?" She turned automatically, tearing her eyes away from the off-colored pavement with some difficulty. "What is it?" As she focused on Suguru, the past day's argument flooded freshly back into her mind, and she had to fight to keep her voice level with him.

_As far as confrontation is concerned, a lady should have no recollection of any day but the present. The only thing a lady might carry that is worse than suspicion is a grudge. Each morning, you should wake feeling refreshed, a freshly bloomed flower. _

Who had told her all of these things? They moved through her mind with a specific voice, but one that she could not place.

"Nothing," Suguru said. "Only that you seemed lost deep in thought, and I was curious what it was."

_Suguru has never been curious a day in his life. _

_The only thing a lady could carry that is worse than…_

"It's nothing." Though she showed no outward sign, Sachiko was, in fact, struggling to come up with an answer to his question that would satiate his 'curiosity' to the point where for once in his life he'd just _f--  
__a lady does not curse  
_go away.

"I'm simply trying to think of a place near the river that would be suitable for a picnic in this weather." Their family had been planning for many years to install a gazebo in that area, but Sachiko could not for the life of her remember if they had ever gotten around to it or not. Which probably meant they hadn't. Her heart sunk a little further down towards her toes.

"Oh, are you still doing that? With this weather?" Suguru said in his most _blasé _tone, something that Sachiko wasn't used to from him. _From his parents, and his siblings, yes. But never him. He's never been…_

_The only thing…_

But Sachiko felt it anyway, the suspicion. Suguru was up to something; had he been asked by somebody  
_my parents  
_to do something? To stop her, perhaps, from leaving the property?

_The reason that suspicion comes so close to topping this list is this; I will only tell you once, so listen closely: The only enemies a lady should have should require no suspicion. You should simply assume that whatever your enemies say and do is gifted with either an ulterior motive or a frankly malicious intent. A lady who simply flings suspicion around willy-nilly will be put in her place far more quickly than you could _dream _by those who she considers to be above suspicion._

_Is Suguru my enemy?_

The side of her which still reeled from

_not thinking about that_

events that had long since been and gone said _yes _as immediately and firmly as they could, but the more rational side of her told her differently. The more rational side of her told her that maybe Suguru had retained his mood from yesterday, and that whatever had been plaguing him them was still eating at him now.

The more rational side of her told her, in short, that Suguru was just being moody. She could empathize with it, even if she would never condone acting on it. But then, that school that he went to didn't teach restraint nearly as adeptly as did hers; his actions regarding Yumi's little brother, Yuuki, were enough to prove that.

So, with a great effort and a small intake of breathe, she let go of her nagging suspicion and dealt with him as she always did: Shortly.

"Yumi and I have held these plans for several days," she said shortly, her tone dropping a bit to imply a subtle sort of lecture—the kind she used to reserve for _Rosa_ _Gigantea_ during her moments of indiscretion. "And because they are on _our _property, it is my responsibility to ensure that they go smoothly, and since these plans are not my plans alone, it would be incredibly rude of me to simply decide that, because of a simple thing like the rain, everybody, even those who I have not spoken with directly on the matter, should simply interrupt their plans. That is my responsibility. You should know that."

For a moment after she said it, she even believed it.

No, longer than a moment. As she articulated, carefully, her sentence chastising Suguru, she felt her worry vanish and her confidence return; she was not an upbeat person by nature, but she was also not one to simply give up on something.

Suguru's face did not display its usual cool indifference, but rather a sort of satisfaction. "I see," he said calmly. "Forgive my rudeness, then. And…" he waited a moment, testing the waters carefully, trying to avoid another lecture, "if I may suggest it, there is a lovely gazebo near the edge of the river that has gone rather underused since its completion several months ago. Perhaps you should have your picnic there."

Sachiko's mind cleared immediately at this, and though she didn't give a smile, she wanted to. Briefly, she even felt something other than her usual vague sense of hostility towards Suguru.

She didn't show that, either.

"Yes," she said. "I'll probably do that. Thank you for your suggestion."

"Anything for you, milady," Suguru said with a grin, and then gave a small bow. "I'm glad I could help."

"I'm very sorry for the trouble," Sachiko said by way of a dismissal, a hint which Suguru, surprisingly, took. He gave her one final grin, and then turned and left the kitchen quickly, as though retreating to his secret hideout.

_Perhaps that's not a bad analogy, either. _Sachiko still had no idea where he went to for hours at a time. She had even once  
_twice  
_searched for him, unsuccessfully that firsttime.

That issue laid to rest, the rain become something friendly again; Sachiko was very glad of this change in perspective. The more she considered it, the less she really wanted to make an enemy of something as powerful as the elements; the true path to being a malcontent lay, she understood, in finding very obscure things to focus one's hatred on, rather than doing as most of the world does and focusing it on one or two people, typically an ex-lover or a public figure.

_Or a family member._

That wasn't entirely fair, though, so Sachiko drove it from her head at roughly the same time that the door to the kitchen slid silently open and the impassive figure entered without any particular addition to the room's noise levels.

"Miss Sachiko," the butler said, his voice indicating a question but his words indicating an uninteresting observation. _Why, yes, that _is _a Sachiko sitting in our kitchen. But, Takashi, however did it get there? I could have sworn I set the traps last night. _"There is a phone call waiting for you on line two."

"Did you ask who it was from?" Sachiko asked, suddenly irate. The best explanation she could come up with this sudden mood swing was that he probably had asked. She couldn't explain it any better than that.

"I believe she mentioned her family name…I believe it was…" he paused for a moment, and had he been permitted by Sachiko's family to chew on his lip, he would have almost certainly been doing so. "Fukuzawa."

There. That was it; the butler's tone was what had pissed her off; or, not precisely his tone. His demeanor.

_It's the same demeanor he's always held with my family—one of indifference. That's why mother likes him so much; she reminds him of father._

Sachiko had often wondered where she had left off calling her father "daddy"Maybe she never had. She couldn't remember.

She was not so attached to that image of her father. Maybe that was another reason she didn't consider Suguru her enemy—one thing that he had never been was indifferent. He was infuriating, sometimes spiteful, and often—in her mind—a complete bastard, but he was never indifferent.

"_Miss _Fukuzawa," she said, allowing her voice to carry that same _I sign your paychecks, so the next words out of your mouth had goddamn better be an apology _tone already possessed by so many millions of dissatisfied retail customers the world over, "is my _petite soeur, _and is thereby as,"_ dear to me, _"much of a member of this family as any of its blood relatives. Please treat her, whether to her face or to mine, with the same respect and courtesy," _and indifference,_ "that you would afford to any of your employers."

The butler, whose name Sachiko could not remember for the life of her, bowed humbly and falsely, apologizing as profusely and disingenuously as was appropriate. He exited a moment later, and a moment after that, the _line _button on the kitchen phone began blinking. Sachiko crossed the kitchen as quickly as her skirt's hem would allow, but then paused a moment before she reached the phone.

_I'm not wearing a skirt._

She was wearing her nightgown. It had only been half an hour since she had gotten out of bed, though it had been distinctly longer since she'd woken.

She paused a moment to ponder what this meant, but couldn't come up with anything particularly satisfactory, so she picked the phone up and spoke into it, though she knew precisely who was on the line and who they were waiting for, "Sachiko Ogasawara speaking." She sometimes wondered why she even bothered saying her family name—whoever called her house had heard it at least twice before they ever spoke to the person they were trying to get to; at least once before they spoke to a real human being.

_A lady announces her presence in precisely the same manner no matter where she is. A lady does not _slack off_ simply because she is at home. You should not answer a phone with, _yeah, who is it? _any more than you should answer your husband calling you in that way._

"Sachiko-_onee-sama?_" Yumi was practically stuttering, and Sachiko had to keep herself from giggling. Yumi had been caught between her mistakes and her training, and had spoken like a child calling out in awe to her older sister. It was really very  
_sweet  
_poorly trained, but Sachiko thought she could allow her _petite seour _this one slip.

_Because she brings you such joy. _

"I think _onee-sama _will suffice, don't you?" Sachiko said pleasantly.

_Are you…teasing her?_

Sachiko supposed she was.

"Y-yes," Yumi said, composing herself as quickly as she could. "Of course. I'm very sorry, _onee-sama._" It was the third time she'd slipped in three days; Sachiko imagined she must be getting a bit disheartened, and wanted desperately, in some backwards part of her heart, to comfort her. She didn't, though.

"In any case, what had you called to talk about, Yumi?" She realized fully well that this was, nearly word-for-word, the exact same thing that she had said to Yumi the last time she'd called, but didn't think much of it; it was the same thing she said to a lot of people. It was just part of her  
_training  
_personality.

There was a brief silence from Yumi's end of the line, and then, slowly and carefully, "I was…ah…wondering if you still wanted to have the picnic, since it's raining outside." She stopped again, and Sachiko was unsure as to whether she was waiting for an answer or simply considering what to say next; this was a problem that Sachiko didn't have with many people—she was fully capable of reading most people like books. Bold-faced books, at that. Not Yumi, though; so while Sachiko paused to consider this, Yumi seemed to grow disheartened again, or nervous, or both. "If not, I'd be happy to reschedule it for another day—I can call Yoshino, and Rei lives right next door to her, and…"

Sachiko waited for this pause to last a second or two—_even if your husband is spouting sheer nonsense at you, you will wait for him to finish before speaking your fair part. Interruption is inexcusable—_and then said, "I don't think that we have to call off the picnic just yet, Yumi; we have a small gazebo near the river that would be perfect to take shelter in. If that's alright with you, that is."

"Of—of course!" Yumi's relief was fairly well palpable, even over the phone. "I'd love t—er…I'd be glad to."

Something small and cruel inside of Sachiko whispered to her, _that girl is of ill breeding; she is too easily excitable, and even many more years of training can do nothing to cure that._

_But that's not true, _Sachiko knew. _In front of others, in front of _men,_ Yumi is exemplary. It's only when she's..._

_Being herself? _

"Wonderful," Sachiko said. "Will you be making your own way over, or shall I have someone come to pick you up?"

"I—" there was a noise from Yumi's end of the phone—a sharp blaring sound, like a car's horn. Twice more, and Yumi said, "Excuse me for a moment, _onee-sama_. I should—" Again.

"Of course," Sachiko said, as curious as Yumi probably was, though it was harder to gauge now that Yumi had a hold of herself again.

A moment later, Yumi's voice reappeared, confused. "_Onee-sama, _did you invite _Rosa Gigantea _to this picnic?" In an involuntary moment of panic, Sachiko's mind jumped someplace she didn't really want it going, so she paused and forced herself to think rationally. _Yumi knows a different _Rosa Gigantea _than I do. It couldn't be _her.

"I thought that you had invited Shimako," Sachiko frowned. _But Shimako would never sit outside and blare a horn at somebody._

"Not…not_ that Rosa Gigantea._"

It took Sachiko less than a second to catch onto what Yumi was saying, to realize that her instinct had been, as it usually was, dead on.

"Satou Sei?" she said, a little horrified.

"Yes." Yumi sounded too stunned to say anything more articulate. Sachiko couldn't blame her.

"What is she...," _Shimako wouldn't have told her. She probably doesn't even speak to her anymore. So who could have…_

From Yumi's end of the phone: "Yumi? There's somebody here to see you." And a moment later, from a familiar voice, "Yumi! It's been a while!"

"Sei! What are you—" Yumi's voice was muffled, and Sachiko had to fight off the urge to make a fool of herself by telling Sei off over the phone.

"I'm here to pick you up, of course. Sachiko's having a picnic, isn't she?"

A crunching sound filled the line, the sound of the receiver being tossed around slightly, probably in an effort to stabilize it against one's ear, and then, "_Onee-sama, _Sei is—"

"You may, if you please, tell her not to be so forward with you," Sachiko snapped a little more harshly than she'd intended to. In the next instant, worry filled her that she'd somehow hurt Yumi's feelings by snapping at her.

Before she could apologize—_that's not saying much. A lot of things will happen before_ you _apologize to somebody, _said that little bitter thing in her head—Sei said, "Don't worry, Sachiko! I'll have her to your house pretty quickly!"

"I'm really sorry, _onee-sama!_" Yumi called. "I tried to stop—"

"Come on, Yumi," Sei said. "We don't want to be late!"

The line went dead.

Sachiko stood there for a moment afterwards, the phone still pressed against her ear, torn between irritation and something very much resembling jealousy.

_Don't worry about it, _she told herself forcefully. _Sei is…eccentric. She won't have any adverse affect on Yumi. On the training that you've been giving her. _

Sachiko didn't believe for a moment that this was what was bothering her about Sei's visit. It would have been like telling the Prime Minister that the reason the economy was in a slump was because skyscrapers were being built too tall and fancy.

Shaking her head, Sachiko forced herself to forget about it. She had work to do now—she had to prepare umbrellas and food, though the food had mostly been prepared by the cooking staff last night, and she had to change into clothes that were suitable for public viewing.

But nobody could ever forget about something that easily.

Not really.


	4. 3: Forget it

Author's notes:

Good lord, it's been a while. Almost two months. I'm quite sorry about that, but now I'm back, and with school and all the "I'm leaving again" angst that's sure to heap on me, there's probably plenty of writing in it for you.

If you hadn't noticed, each of my chapter titles is actually a song name or lyric. Point out any of the artists and win a gold star.

When Suguru announces the arrival of our first two lovely ladies, you should take "miss" to mean something like "-sama." I have written them family-name last, in all spite of tradition, for continuity.

Finally, I am not going to explain the joke about 'powdering the nose' unless people really don't get it, in which case you'll see it in the next set of author's notes.

--

_How could I believe when this cloud hangs over me/ You're the part of me that I don't want to see._

_I could live forever here._

--

Chapter 3

Forget it

"Sa-chan?" Suguru's voice found its way into Sachiko's room like so many unwelcome peeping toms. She heard it all too clearly, standing in front of her mirror re-combing her hair for the third time—a lady's vanity, one of the many things nobody expected of her, and one of the many things she would never, ever let onto, as testified to by her dozens of fans at Lillian who positively swore that she leapt out of bed each morning with her hair looking like the very symbol of perfection that it was. "You have guests." His voice was astonishingly curt. There was no hint of the halfway-upbeat teasing, nor of the subtle, untraceable note of

_spite _

distaste _that was only to be expected from a man of his tastes who was destined to be wed to a woman such as myself, _Sachiko quickly rationalized, not wanting to delve into psycho-analyzing his voice overly much. Not now, anyway. "Who is it?" she asked as pleasantly as possible, forcing herself to ignore Suguru's obvious irritability. _Getting into character, _said that mean, hateful little voice inside of her head, that voice that, try as she might, she could not get to stop sounding so much like her mother's.

"Miss Rei Hasekura," he said, intoning their names as formally as they themselves had probably done as they announced their arrival, "And Miss Yoshino Shimazu. They await you downstairs. I told them," he said ironically, "that you had to finish powdering your nose."

In all spite of her mood and his, Sachiko had to clamp a hand firmly over her mouth at that to stifle her laugh. It was a joke her mother would have never even acknowledged, and one which any woman of good  
_sheltering_  
breeding would never have expected a man to make. _And don't forget to wipe, _he would have finished, were he a man of worse breeding than he was. Even in his irritable mood, however, he would never openly admit to making a _(heaven forbid)_ dirty joke.

She wondered about that, in any case—were he truly in so foul a mood, he would never have bothered to make her laugh like that. _He would simply keep it to himself and laugh at me in his room as he  
A lady does not brood. Not even about  
Not thinking about that._

She refused to marvel, as she would have liked to, over how spiteful she herself could be, however. She had guests waiting for her, and she supposed her hair would have to do. "Kashi…" _be nice._ "Suguru," she called back suddenly, without entirely knowing why. Maybe just to see if he was still there.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anything for my lady," he said quietly, his voice still ironic. "I will make sure not to intrude upon your meal, and I'll take your calls personally."

She felt a pang of guilt at this, and didn't entirely know why, but it didn't go away as the sound of his footsteps clomped down the hall, fading quickly into nothingness.

Sachiko frowned and took one final, almost obligatory glance into the mirror. She had considered dressing as she usually did for parties and events—an entirely conservative _kimono _in her choice of red, purple, or blue, complete with sash and clunky wooden sandals. Today, however, was different. She justified it by telling herself that she was going outside, and that such unpragmatic dress would only lead to disaster at some point or another, but what was important was the result: A simple cream-colored coat with a light-blue button-up shirt underneath _(which you must never undo even if it becomes so hot that the lakes themselves begin to boil they'll see your shoulders) _and pants which hugged her form and hid it all at once, wrought from a black, silken material. She wore shoes that weren't quite dress shoes, but weren't entirely sneakers, either. She wore a silk scarf as well _(to hide your neck from the men) _but she would probably remove that _(you slut) _if it became too hot _(you must never become a slut like them they never wear scarves and always remove their coats to show their shoulders). _

She decided it was fine, ignored her mother's voice, now veritably screaming at her, and exited her room.

It was far easier to move in these shoes, she decided, than it was in those wooden clogs. Easier to stand up straight, to not trip. Not that she ever tripped in any event, but walking in these, she felt a huge, unfathomable burden lifted from her shoulders as she went. She felt casual, she felt comfortable. _(Dangerous things). _She felt…something very much like happiness flooding through her, in fact. For the first time in months, there were friends waiting for her in her house. _And soon, Yumi. _At this thought, her house started immediately to seem less like a  
_prison_  
big, empty castle and more like …

More like home.

She was able to descend the wide, short stairs almost silently, something she marveled at, but she did not revel so in walking that she failed to stop, as she always did, at the door just before the guest room where Suguru or one of the servants would have undoubtedly directed Rei and Yoshino to by now. She stopped there because of the mirror which hung on the door; a small thing, at face level, so that she could see her expression very clearly in it.

_More important than makeup or hair is your expression, which you must always check before you greet even your closest friends, because your expression _is _makeup. If incorrectly applied, people will think worse of you, much like a woman who heaps on too much or applies none at all; and like makeup, small hints and changes applied in simply innocuous areas can make all the difference in the world to that end. _

She found her expression needed very little touching up, which pleased her. Her mouth was naturally curved up in a polite grin, though it was a little too open for her  
_mother's_  
tastes. She fixed it easily, and then opened the door.

The next room was by and far the most plush and cushy in the house—it had to be, her mother had said when they furnished it, because it was the room in which you inconvenienced your guests to wait. The walls were a gentle, soothing cream color, spotlessly painted, with pictures of landscapes, both painted and photographed, all along it. The couches which lined it were the same color, and the most comfortable in the house. There was music coming from hidden speakers in the walls, gentle and traditional, and the carpet—the only room that was carpeted—was smooth, not rough and grainy like most rugs.

In all, a perfect room for a deception, if one was needed. Which it wasn't.

Rei and Yoshino were seated on the center and right edge, respectively, of the couch facing Sachiko, dressed simply in jeans and sweaters—Sachiko was used to being silently accused of overdressing—and both smiled openly and unguardedly as she entered, and rose to meet her as gentlemen might. They both bowed deeply and formally, though Yoshino's was anxious and frustrated, and then moved towards her and, before she could protest, threw their arms around her at once.

The hug was brief and sisterly, and the room was empty, but still Sachiko felt heat rise to her cheeks. Perhaps it was simply relief. If they were offended at her inaction, they didn't show it. Likely they simply knew her well. "Sachiko," Rei smiled. "It's been a while."

"It has," Sachiko returned pleasantly. "I hope you've been well." _Gently prompt. _

"I have, and so has Yoshino." She indicated the girl next to her, who _hmphed _at being spoken for.

"_I have indeed _been well, as _Onee-sama _pointed out," she interjected. Rei blushed a little and shrugged, as though to say, _there's no helping it, _and for the second time that day, Sachiko held in a laugh. It was a most wonderful thing to her, though if she kept doing this, she would lose her control shortly. "How have you been?"

_Why even keep it in?_

_Because she's not here. _Seemed the only valid explanation. "I've been quite well, thank you." _Now tell them the happy news. Tell them you're engaged, and they'll smile and congratulate me and ask me when the wedding is and I can get back to acting. _"I've …"

They looked at her expectantly.

_But then I don't get to see her. Not really._

_Can't you enjoy yourself, just this once? Let your hair down, unbutton your _(slut) _coat, have fun like a real human being? Just this once? Who's going to see you, but the silent butlers and Suguru? _

It pained her a little to realize that she had come into this endeavor not even planning to have fun. Not planning to enjoy herself.

Pained her and disgusted her.

Her mother would say the outside world had made her soft.

Right now, she wasn't sure what she'd have to say to that.

But forget it. If she was doomed to a life of taking lovers in marriage to Suguru, of forced servitude to the beast called marriage, then why not forget about it for just a day? Just one little day.

Right?

"Chosen what I think I want to do with the rest of my life."

They both seemed honestly delighted. She had never regarded herself as directionless, any more than any other high school student, but she got the feeling that some did, as they questioned her about her intended major and she, having given it no more thought than was necessary to get her mother off her back, replied as gracefully as possible that she was still uncertain.

"What is it? Do you know your major, or do you have a career path chosen?"

"Both," she said. "I'd like to pursue a degree in Japanese literature and composition, and become a writer."

Yoshino seemed surprised, but Rei clamped her hand over the girl's mouth and smiled. It was obvious that she was going to say something important, but she held it back, only smiling. "I think it's perfect," she said. "Absolutely perfect for you."

The bitter little thing in the back of her head said, _Why? Because I'm the kind of girl who ought to be held in captivity for the rest of her life? Because if I'm to be confined to a room or two, I'd best learn how to entertain myself? _

_These are my friends, you bitch. How dare you?_

The last surprised even Sachiko. She said it in her head, to her mother's voice, and the voice abruptly vanished. It didn't act shocked or offended. Simply disappeared at the slightest hint of resistance.

_Just like before._

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I appreciate that."

Rei smiled. "It just happens that I'm doing the same thing."

_This _surprised Sachiko. Rei had never been any great shakes with words or, really, with art. She was very feminine, but her taste in books leaned very painfully towards the romantic and very painfully_ away _from the well-respected. In reality, she wasn't that different from Yoshino, whose tastes fell along the lines of Ikenami Shoutarou, sports, and Akira Kurosawa.

"Really," Sachiko said in a pleasant, _I have no idea what else to say to that _tone. "Do you know what you plan to do with it?"

"History," Rei said at once, as though she'd been rehearsing it. "Literature history fascinates me. I think I'll probably get my doctorate, and then go back and teach at a university."

_That _sounded a little more like Rei. Rei had always been an impressive teacher—anybody on the Kendo team could have attested to that. Even so…

_Didn't her parents put up a fit?_

_Didn't yours?_

Sachiko still didn't know how to deal with that.

Apparently, she didn't have to. A moment later, the doorbell rang again. Without even having to think about it, as though informed by some sixth sense, Sachiko's heart leapt  
_Yumi._  
and she started for the door, quickly. She was certain that had she been entertaining  
_real_  
guests  
_not friends_

she would have received funny looks for moving so quickly, or, really, at all, when she had _people _to do _that sort of thing. _

However, the fact remained that she _had _people to do that sort of thing, and sometimes it seemed like they sat at the door _(see A/N below) _waiting for people to arrive. Maybe they did. Sachiko, her heart half in her belly and half in her throat, could only freeze and pretend she hadn't done anything at all as she heard the door open, and the pleasant, disinterested voices of her butlers greet somebody  
_Yumi._  
in a pleasant, disinterested way that seemed to stretch on into infinity, heaping formality after formality after formality after _fucking formality  
a lady is patient.  
don't dare explode like that aloud_  
onto the new guests. And they, of course, were required to do the same in return, and so Sachiko was forced to wait there, staring straight at the door, nearly choking on her heart. She was certain that Rei and Yoshino were staring at her (though, in reality, they were doing nothing of the sort: They understood how she felt better than she could have possibly fathomed) but she felt comfortable enough around them not to care. Or maybe she couldn't help it.

At first, the only voice returning the greetings was the one that Sachiko most distinctly did not want to hear, the one that she didn't ask to attend: Sei. "Thank you very much for inviting us into your house," she said. The butler returned her pleasantry and she retaliated, "No, don't worry about us, we'll just announce ourselves. I'm nowhere near rich enough for that." A polite chuckle from the butler, and then, something that made her ears alive again, tingling and electric: A light, high voice, pleasant, restrained and yet genuine, laughing.

_Yumi._

Every muscle in Sachiko's body began to tug at her, to force her to move, to scream, _go, go, GO TO HER. _Every muscle, every fiber of her heart, body, soul, and mind. Every synapse in her head sparked, all spelling the same thing, except one.

That one little voice.

That one little _f—  
A lady does not curse, not even to herself. How many times must I remind you of that, you stupid girl?_  
That one little voice. The voice she called _mother, _and that her mother called _breeding, _or perhaps _training_. The one that said: _Wait here. It won't be much longer, and think of how much face you'll save._

_And speaking of face, check your expression. It's running down your cheeks._

And on command, Sachiko straightened her face immediately, and turned to Rei and Yoshino, who were simply waiting politely, hands folded in their laps, eyes staring at nothing at all, not waiting, simply _there. _"I apologize for the wait," she said, "but it seems two more of our guestshave arrived. If you'd like a refreshment while we wait for the final one, I would be more than happy to get you one."

The door opened, and Sachiko hadn't ever cared about refreshments. Rei and Yoshino didn't mind.

"_Onee-sama?_"

Yumi's voice was exactly as she remembered it, even as nervous and uncertain as it was now. The phone couldn't even come close to matching it. It never even occurred to Sachiko that the waiting had made her half-crazy as she thought about how distorted it all seemed over that stupid wire. She wanted to run for Yumi, to sweep her up in her arms, hug her, tell her how much she missed her. She wanted to stare into the eyes of her _petite soeur, _and

"Yumi!" she said calmly, feigning that her delight was only a polite feint, as she always did. "It has been a while."

"It…" It was obvious, even to an untrained eye as Sachiko's, that Yumi was working very hard not to do what Sachiko had  
_needed to_  
thought about doing. "It has. I hope you've been well, _Onee-sama_?"

Sachiko smiled evenly. _Stop it, Yumi. Just come for me. God, I've missed you. Stop it. I know I trained you to do it, but don't listen to me, I'm just a stupid_

"I have. I've…" _Missed you._

"I've missed you, _Onee-sama,_" Yumi said as gently as she could. She _was _learning—not two months ago, she'd have cried it out, and dashed for Sachiko. As of now, she simply walked quickly, but the result was certainly the same: A moment later, Sachiko felt Yumi's warm body pressing up against her, and without thinking about it, she folded her arms around the girl and _squeezed._

_Yumi._

She kept smiling.

--

A/N from above: _I hate playing against the Butlers. They always camp the doors. _


	5. 4: The house that Jack built

Author's notes

In the last chapter, I put forth a joke about "powdering Sachiko's nose," but did not explain it. It's rather my own private joke, I realize, so this was not entirely fair to you. Perhaps some of you caught the Pulp Fiction reference, but this wasn't my intended interpretation. Rather, the joke was based on my own observations about life. Namely, that "powdering one's nose" is, in fact, Lady for "taking a shit."

…Ba-dum-kchhhhh. Weak payoff, brother. Don't quit your day job, I know.

Congrats to Kyry for guessing the artists to chapters one and two correctly! (Breaking Benjamin). Still two up for grabs! Fame and fortune, everyone. Fame and fortune. Actually, that's a lie; today's is really distinctive and probably easy.

Thanks to my editor, Sumiregawa Nenene, for making this legible, as always!

And now, on with the show!

* * *

_The higher you are / the farther you fall_

* * *

Chapter four

The house that Jack built #1

Those next few moments were a suture for a long-aching burn inside of Sachiko. Like a weak, arthritic joint or an old scar that never quite healed right, something in Sachiko had ached, had _been _aching since she left Lillian, to the point where sometimes it physically burned at her, underneath her breast; a powerful, gnawing pain that would sometimes last for hours on end. But like that old proverbial bullet wound, even if it hurt constantly, it only really _burned _sometimes, on those odd days when it was about to rain, when she sat on it wrong, when she saw  
_a happy family_  
something sticky-sweet on television. The old hurt never really gave her cause for thought, nor pause except in her most private moments, when she might nurse it for a while, but if she had thought on it long and hard—which she had not—she might have really taken note of it, rather than accepting it as something that was simply a part of her life, and as far as she was concerned, always had been. It had become something so normal to her that when it suddenly vanished in a single moment of fluttering stomachs and interlocked bodies, she felt as though the entire world had suddenly stopped leaning on her shoulders and found some other new sap to roll on for a while. All of her pain evaporated, all of her worry and doubt and  
_hate_  
tension, and she felt her whole body relax, like that old war veteran after a small operation finally found that old wood splinter that had lodged itself in his shoulder that he had been calling a bullet from a Nazi sniper for so long.

Suddenly, the world didn't seem quite so bleak after all.

And then, all at once, she became aware of everybody else's gaze. Not on her, of course. That would have been hopelessly impolite. Rather, the entire room, save for that one blank patch where she and Yumi stood, had become the target of her guests' interest, and she and her _petite soeur _had become that impossible anti-space, the blank spot in the universe. It was polite, but it was  
_what the hell do you think you're doing in front of all of your guests your expression is piling at your feet in a sludge_  
agonizing.  
Sachiko's family hosted a lot of gatherings for a lot of very rich, important men, which meant that they also played host to a lot of very young,  
_more_  
beautiful trophy wives. Because of the transient nature of that lifestyle, there was never a shortage of weddings to gossip on and ooh and aah over, and there was never a shortage of newlyweds—of horny old men, desperate to sire a child and prove to themselves that they weren't really _that _old, and of beautiful young women who know that the size of their alimony check would one day be directly related to the extent that they put out for their husbands. So there was always the _one _couple. The _one  
dingy  
at least Suguru isn't_  
old man who simply could not keep his paws off of his new wife, especially after the _sake _had made a few rounds around the party. And as soon as his control slipped, people simply found other places to look, quietly thinking, _what a disgusting old man_ and saying what a lovely couple they were, all the while not really paying attention to what _they _had been doing at all. He became the center of attention in the room, the heretic you were forbidden to so much as look at.

And now, suddenly, Sachiko felt that man. That dirty old man, unable to keep his paws off of the pretty women, simply because he thought he had the money for it. She released her _petite soeur _immediately, bringing her out to shoulder's length so quickly that it was almost a shove, and smiled as best she could at her. All at once, light ceased to slide around her and she became a living, visible, tangible entity again. At the same time, Yumi's open, ear-to-ear smile faded a little as she saw something she couldn't quite interpret in Sachiko's expression.

"It's good to see you, Yumi," Sachiko said politely, mustering her strength, smiling, and forcing herself to forget about that old, dirty  
_Not thinking about that.  
_  
"It's good to see you, _onee-sama_," Yumi replied with equal politeness, and the kind of emptiness in her voice that signified that she was becoming a true lady. Sachiko felt that old hurt start to return again, and familiarity seemed to return to the world.

Painful, agonizing familiarity.

_Would you like that?_

Painful, agonizing familiarity, followed by a painful, agonizing silence as the rest gazed at the two of them, and Sachiko gazed at Yumi, seeing nothing else for a second. She didn't see Rei's hand tighten on the hem of Yoshino's skirt. She didn't see Shimako Toudo walk in, silent and unannounced, and freeze at the door, perhaps out of panic, or an uncanny sense of atmosphere and moment. She didn't even see Sei, grimacing, the lines of her pretty face flat and unemotional but her large, normally clear eyes scrunching up into an expression of disapproval, bordering anger.

She saw none of this. She only saw the emptiness, and perhaps the first glimmer of a tear in Yumi's eye, and she wanted to scream in a thousand different ways, _no, that's not it, please don't!_

And maybe, inside, she did scream a little.

And something screamed back at her.

_YOUR GUESTS ARE STARING AT YOU! _It screamed, its voice less that of her mother now than that of a screeching, swooping harpy._ What in the hell do you think you're doing, you stupid girl? Your guests are sitting there uncomfortably and _STARING AT YOU! _GET BACK IN THERE AND TALK TO HIM. _The last words were so shrill and painful in her head that Sachiko had to press her head to her temple to stem off a small tide of pain that erupted there.

And then the pain traveled elsewhere. Underneath her breast, where it flared and burned. She had felt it before, especially in recent months, but never this intensely—now it felt like a small sunspot had formed in her chest. She drew in a hefty breath once, twice, three times, and forced the pain down, and it almost came back up through her esophagus. Yumi's form began to blur out, and she shook her head, hard. Her guests were _really _beginning to stare now. Sei had left her spot by the wall, and Yumi, all hurt gone from her eyes, reached out and touched her shoulder.

"_Onee-sama_?" Yumi's voice was small and a little frightened. "Are you all right?"

_OF COURSE YOU'RE ALL RIGHT YOU STUPID GIRL GET UP RIGHT NOW BEFORE I HAVE TAKASHI TAKE YOU IN BACK AND SPANK YOU  
THAT "DIRTY OLD MAN" IS RICH AND POWERFUL AND YOU SHOULD BE GODDAMN HONORED TO BE BREATHING THE SAME _AIR _THAT HE IS_  
The pain was starting to concentrate. In her lungs.

_Get up?_

Sachiko was suddenly staring at the hem of Yumi's dress, rather than her pretty, expressive face, and Yumi uttered a small shriek, and then Sei was there, _Sei_ of all people, moving faster than a thin waif of a girl like her should have ever been able to move. She caught Sachiko on the way down and eased her to the ground, and now Sachiko was staring at the ceiling and fighting to keep her gorge down, unable to even _think _about moving coherently as she fought inside of her to keep what _was _inside of her from spilling out.

"_Onee-sama?_" Yumi's face appeared in her vision, blocking the ceiling out. "What's wrong, Sachiko? What—"

The door opened and a male voice said, "Please move aside. I'll take care of this." Powerful hands gripped under her armpits, and yanked her up so that her torso was almost perpendicular to the ground. The pain spread down to her stomach now, and then there was something poking at her mouth. Something hard and powdery, tasting vaguely of chalky fruit.

"Aspirin," Sachiko rasped, astounded at how bad her voice sounded. "Give me some aspirin and I'll be fine."

"I think," the voice said, "that you've had quite enough aspirin for one month, Miss Ogasawara." The voice was formal and respectful and a little chastising all at once.

_THERE NOW TAKASHI WILL TAKE YOU OVER HIS KNEE AND_

"Please eat these. You will feel better."

"What's wrong with her?" Rei asked, her voice a little strained with panic.

"Nothing," the voice  
_(TAKASHI)_  
said. "She is simply feeling ill in her stomach. Miss Ogasawara, please chew these. You will feel much better."

Somebody's hand pressed at the edges of her teeth, near her molars and her cheekbones, and Sachiko tried to clamp her mouth tighter. What were they doing? Didn't they know if she opened her mouth, she'd—

Her mouth opened and a great, powerful belch slid out of her throat, wet and painful and relieving all at once. Stomach acid dabbled at the back of her palate, and she swallowed it back down. Her vision cleared all at once, and her stomach and breast settled enough that she could move again. The man behind her stuffed a pair of antacids into her mouth, a little forcefully, and gently closed her mouth, but by that point Sachiko didn't need it. She bit down and chewed, once, twice, three times, and then swallowed. The relief was almost immediate, and all at once she felt inexpressibly better.

After a moment, Sachiko turned around to face her savior, and somewhere, her mother laughed at her.

It was her butler, Takashi. Elderly but certainly not old by anybody's standards, least of all his own. She smiled at him as best she could, and he grinned back warmly. "You have had quite enough aspirin this month, Miss Ogasawara," he repeated. "I believe perhaps that you should see a doctor."

Sachiko took a quick look around—Sei and Yumi were crouched near her, Sei supporting her head and Yumi stroking her hand, something she only now began to feel again. Rei was nowhere to be found, and Shimako was speaking quietly with Yoshino.

"I have guests, Takashi," she said quietly. "I'm just feeling a little tired. I don't believe there's any cause for—"

Pain exploded again in her stomach and chest then, as though out of spite, and _then _she threw up. She didn't get a chance to see what color it was, nor where it landed, because immediately after her stomach emptied itself, the world around her went dark and all she could remember after that was the sound of her mother, shrieking and shouting.

* * *

At first, Sachiko wasn't certain if she was in her own home or somebody else's. Her first thought was, _did I let myself into somebody's house and forget to properly announce myself? _

Then she opened her eyes and realized it was neither—Sachiko was in a large, absurdly comfortable white bed, and her guests were seated around her, blocking her view of an absurdly small window. In the other direction there was a wooden door which gave her a pleasant view of an absurdly clean, white hallway where men and women in white and blue coats hustled back and forth.

She looked back at her guests, and Yumi's eyes lit up. Her mind reeled for a moment before she steadied it. She felt groggy

_A lady is _never _groggy. If a lady makes the mistake of oversleeping, she will be just as pert and prim as if she had been up and about for several hours already_

but not enough to forget herself. "I'm very sorry," she said. Jagged needles thrust themselves into her throat with each word. "I didn't mean to—"

"Ah," someone male and perky said. "You're awake, Miss Ogasawara. That's wonderful."

There was a rustling sound as the heads of Sei, Rei, Yoshino, and Shimako turned as one to face her, and Sachiko turned back towards the door to find a man in a white coat standing there, holding a clipboard and smiling brightly.

"What—" more pain, and this time Sachiko began to cough furiously. She reached out with one hand for something, anything, to steady herself with, and somebody took it with their own hand. _Yumi._ "What happened to me?"

The man walked towards her now, setting his clipboard down on a small table near Sachiko's bed. "You passed out, Miss Ogasawara, and I'd say with good reason."

She watched him expectantly, and he looked back at her, as though waiting for something out of her. She realized she was missing something, and a second later, so did he.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I sometimes forget that not everybody had to memorize hospital policy." He chuckled, and said, "I'll have to ask your guests to leave before I discuss—"

"My guests," Sachiko rasped, "are my friends, and are privy to any information that I am."

The doctor looked at her for a moment, his smile fading. "I'll have to ask you to sign a consent form stating as much, you know."

"Very well," Sachiko said. "Please, continue."

The doctor found his smile again, and did. "You have been wrestling a fairly nasty peptic ulcer for quite a long time, Miss Ogasawara. It has made very significant headway eating the lining out of parts of your stomach. It's a small wonder that this hasn't happened already."

Sachiko blinked. _An ulcer? Am I that… _She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Yumi interjected, very impolitely, at that. "Could _onee…_could Sachiko have…" she paused, fumbling a word.

The doctor turned politely to Yumi. "Yes?" he _politely prompted, _and Sachiko bit back a laugh.

Yumi shook her head once and spoke slowly. "Could it be possible that Miss Sachiko suffered from too much…" she glanced at Sachiko, who actually took a moment to realize what it was that Yumi was doing: She was being a lady. She was asking if Sachiko was under a lot of stress without asking. She was showing her training.

_Do you like that?_

Sachiko wasn't sure.

"Stress?" the doctor asked, and then laughed. "Maybe that was what brought that attack on, and I'd have to ask your _onee-sama _about that," he gave Yumi a small, fatherly wink, "but peptic ulcers are caused by a disease. It's easily curable, and the damage reversible. It's a good thing we got to her when we did, though," he leveled a stern gaze at Sachiko, the kind that said, _if I was your doctor, I'd have given you a stern talking-to, and then a helpful kick in the ass for this, _"because if she had continued the way she was going, we may have had some hemorrhaging on our hands."

"There was no blood in any of her vomit," Sei offered helpfully, and then snorted a laugh. Sachiko looked at her, and saw that she was wearing a different outfit than the one that she'd come in.

The doctor smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Sei."

Sachiko frowned. _How did he know her name? _This, unfortunately, was a piece of information that she could only obtain by sharp inquiry, which meant that she couldn't _gently prompt _it out of anybody.

"I'm going to write you a prescription for an antibacterial and an antacid," the doctor said, turning his firm gaze back onto Sachiko. "And I want you to start eating properly and stop taking so much aspirin. If you're getting chronic headaches, you should see _your _doctor about that. _That _little piece I got from your fiancée, Mister Kashiwagi."

Yumi gasped audibly; whether at the latter piece of information or the former, Sachiko wasn't sure of, but she got the feeling that it was very important nonetheless.

To tell the truth, though, Sachiko hadn't really realized that she _wasn't _eating properly or that she _was _going overboard on aspirin. She hadn't noticed any hunger pangs in her stomach—when her stomach _did _hurt, she took an antacid and a nap. By the time she awoke, she felt better. She ate…

_When _do _you eat?_

She ate. She must have been eating. Otherwise she'd be a lot thinner  
_you fat, stupid girl who will want you if you eat_  
wouldn't she?

Honestly, she wasn't sure. But if Suguru had noticed it…

The doctor stood up, bowed slightly, and said, "I'm going to go get your prescription. I suggest you rest. If you want, I can arrange for a cab to pick you up here."

It occurred to her that she didn't even know where _here _was. She was at some sort of doctor's office or hospital, and Sei seemed to know people here, but beyond that the whole thing was sort of a mystery to her.

"No need," Sei said. "I'll take them home."

"Very well," the doctor said, and then bowed once more and left.

All heads turned first to Sachiko, who looked immediately at Sei for an explanation. Sei merely shrugged. "He's my doctor. He...helped me out not long ago, so when I found out we were coming here, I called him and asked him to meet us at the ambulance bay. He's very good." She sounded like she meant it, but not like she cared. Not about the doctor, anyway.

She definitely looked as though she cared about Sachiko. Her gaze was as worried as Sachiko had ever seen it. Which, to be fair, was not saying much.

"I'll go get the car," Sei said. "Rei, Yoshino, Shimako, you can come help me."

It was quite possibly the most transparent fabrication in history, but Sachiko appreciated it nonetheless. They stood up, each paid a small sympathy

_Sympathy is one of your primary weapons as a Lady_

and left.

And then it was just Sachiko and Yumi again.


	6. 5: Beyond the sun

Author's notes

This one is distinctly less disturbing than the rest. I hope you guys weren't too attached to a vision of Sachiko as the world's biggest mental case, because, in spite of how frightening I think her head is, she's not all-gone.

* * *

_Let me be the fire in your head._

* * *

Chapter 5

Beyond the sun

In an ideal relationship between a _petite soeur _and her _grande soeur, awkward silences _were what you shared when you were both in the lavatory, unable to make conversation. Few relationships were so ideal; even Rei and Yoshino, as comfortable as they had been as very small children, back before it became really important to fill every gap in conversation with inane, meaningless words, shared the occasional awkward space; sometimes over the phone, sometimes walking to school on a bad day.

The same held true for Yumi and Sachiko. And though neither would have admitted it in a court of law, they spent their first minute together, alone, in over three months in mildly uncomfortable silence. It was, at least, uncomfortable on Sachiko's end; later, for a while, they would both attribute it to the bad taste left in their mouths by Sei's tasteless exit, or to Sachiko's embarrassment about what had happened, or…

Or really, anything except for what it was.

Sachiko, not entirely sure what to say in the wake of…everything, really, stared intently at the hem of Yumi's jeans, willing herself not to think about what was happening so hard; trained social butterfly or not, anybody who worried themselves excessively froze up eventually,  
_and lost_  
and that wasn't Sachiko. She hadn't even frozen up when  
_not thinking about that_  
her stomach hurt.

In fact, it hurt quite a bit. She put a hand protectively over her stomach, clutching it in just that little bit further, as though if she huddled herself up as tight as she could, maybe her pain would vanish completely.

Yumi's eyes widened and she gave a little gasp; Sachiko imagined it was, for her, a bit like watching an epileptic wince in pain; unsure as to whether or not they were about to have an attack, _and then what do you do? _

What _would _Yumi do? If Sachiko were to have some inexplicable attack right here?

_Would she get fed up? _If you're not going to make an effort to heal, I'm not going to stick around while you mope around. _Is that what she would say?_

The pain lanced up through Sachiko's torso again, and then turned to something worse, something queasy and sickening. She gasped, clamped a hand to her mouth as her eyes widened in the kind of terror only visible on a sober person's face just before they vomited.

"_Onee-sama_!" Yumi cried, and, in a single fearless, graceful motion befitting of some of the nun-nurses at Lillian, grabbed the (currently empty) vomit-pan from the table by Sachiko's bed, stood up, and brought it underneath Sachiko's mouth. With her other hand, cool and dry, she pulled Sachiko's hair back gently from where it had been clustering about her cheeks. A second later, Sachiko lost the battle with her gorge, moved her hand, and threw up into the pan, giving a small, frightened retch with each heave of her stomach.

When she was empty, _(when did I have food in the first place?)_ she looked back up at Yumi, slowly, her mind swimming with fear and shame. It took her a second to fully comprehend the look on the girl's face, but she needn't have feared; Yumi was looking down at her, her expression equal parts concern and  
_love_  
affection, and smiling, her open face hiding nothing. Her face _couldn't _hide anything. Yumi's face, Sachiko felt, could not have been anything but the most honest thing on the planet.

Her _petite soeur _didn't say anything. How could she? She couldn't ask if Sachiko was okay, because it was obvious she wasn't, head hovering not a foot above a pan full of her own vomit, still occasionally spilling forth a wet hiccup. She couldn't ask if she could do anything to help, because she knew that Sachiko couldn't ask for anything better than this. She couldn't talk about something off-topic, to try and get Sachiko's mind off of it, because…

Because it wouldn't have been honest. It wouldn't have been Yumi.

So she stood there, her hand on Sachiko's forehead, cooling it and holding her long, dark hair back, her other hand holding the vomit-pan under Sachiko's head until it was clear that Sachiko was done with everything but the hiccups. _Those _battles, Sachiko thought, she would win. Before had been…

What had it been?

Setting the pan down carefully—a lot of what was inside was liquid, which meant that there hadn't really been that much in her stomach after all—Yumi sat down next to Sachiko and put an arm around her a little protectively.

_Look how easily she fills the role you can't, _that small, bitter thing inside of her pointed out. _What kind of mother will you be if you can't even act like a decent _onee-sama

_What kind of _wife _will you be…_

She pushed the thought out of her mouth, about half a second before Yumi pulled Sachiko's head to her shoulder, and for a moment, she felt her stomach vanish and her head begin a steady ascent towards the clouds. A smile drifted vaguely onto her face, and her lips parted slightly as she let out her breath in a small sigh…

And then, as the air rose from her mouth and passed her nose, the thought hit her like an alarm, an agonizing, painful sound that gave her the impression that maybe her brain was a bell, and her skull the little red casing that made the sound really _echo _in a person's ear, gifting them with that lasting headache that reminds them, _hey, just so you don't forget, you stood a little too close to that alarm today. _ She jerked upwards, away from Yumi, her hand going to her mouth for the second time.

It wasn't a bell in her head, though. Her brain vibrated against her skull and the sound it made was _BREATH. _Breath. Her breath, sour with the odor and taste of vomit, still fresh in her mouth.  
_BREATHBREATHBREATHBREATHBREATHBREATH_  
Her breath. She had just vomited twice; as her lips parted, this became fairly apparent from the sour, pungent odor emanating from between her teeth. This wasn't just a little error in etiquette, one which might cause her mother or old etiquette coach to snap at her harshly; it was an outrage, like wearing a high-cut skirt to a formal occasion, or breaking wind at the dinner table. It wasn't just breaching manners; it was taking a shit on them. As far as that bell  
_BREATH YOU DISGUSTING BITCH_  
was concerned, she may as well have not brushed her teeth that morning, or any morning for the past week before an important event. She may as well have vomited on Yumi. It was the absolute epitome of  
_yumi must think im  
how could anyone  
BREATH how can she stand to be anywhere near me when im this disgusting_  
Sachiko felt her gorge rise again, for the second time in less than ten minutes.

_Stress? Maybe that was what brought _that _attack on…_ he said. _But peptic ulcers are caused by a disease. _Did that mean that her stomach just rose and fell at intervals, or was there something to that _stress _thing?

Something was _gently prompting _her head down, back towards where Yumi's shoulder  
_couldn't be_  
was. It was soft and warm, and it seemed to possess a queer cooling ability as well—the burn in her stomach faded nearly as soon as she touched it, Yumi's hand still gently cupping her jaw.

"Does it hurt very much?" Yumi said quietly, her voice laden with sympathy, but underneath it, Sachiko saw something most  
_disgusting_  
ladylike: It was Sachiko's _out. _All she had to do was lie and say no, and Yumi would let her go, and that would be the end of it.

But it wasn't, that was the unfathomable thing. It wasn't, because _Yumi, _for her training from Sachiko and the whole of Lillian, for all of her faking it in front of everybody from Sachiko's parents to the teachers, wasn't. She could be ladylike, but deep down, she _wasn't; _and Sachiko knew, somehow, that that was what she was seeing right now, was _deep-down. _

Deep down, Yumi was just caring. More like one of the older nuns, with their sly winks and their oddly practical, if oft-outdated, (_if a boy keeps adjusting his _jinbei _around you, watch out, he's down a well without a rope for you_) advice, than the Ladies (with a capital 'L') that seemed to spread themselves across Japan, produced at a steady rate of a few hundred a year by that school; the ones with perfect posture, cool, calculating speech, and reserved smiles that never seemed to reach their eyes.

Sachiko had an _out, _provided free of charge, if unwittingly, by Yumi. All she had to do was take it, and Yumi would leave her to tend to her unkempt appearance; and unkempt it was, she knew, with a kind of preternatural sense that she could never properly explain: Her hair was tousled, as though she'd just woken from a long sleep, (which she had) and if she were to look in a mirror, she was almost certain she would find dark rings about her eyes from where her makeup had rubbed in. She looked like something her mother would have actually deemed to describe with a dirty word, and even thinking about it brought that familiar queasy bubble back into her stomach. She looked _awful, _and she knew it, and she thought that Yumi knew it too. Of course she would have wanted Yumi gone—_everyone _gone.

The trick to it, though, was that she didn't want to. That wasn't to say that she wasn't tempted, even _pulled _to by her mother's voice, still ringing in her head like a fire alarm. Only that another part of her—a part fundamentally imbued with what some might have called a _deep courage_—refused, flat out. It was a part of her that Sachiko had rarely seen, and knew almost nothing about. Courage was something that Ladies needed, her mother had said, but only later; for now, she was best to bury that part of her and do what needed to be done.

And yet, here it was.

And here was Yumi. Maybe Sachiko did look awful; maybe her hair _was _tousled and unkempt, maybe flecked with the bits of vomit that Sei wasn't able to get out, and yet, Yumi still ran her fingers through it gently. Maybe her face _did _look as though it hadn't been made up in weeks, pale and distraught; and yet, Yumi still cupped it gently in her small, soft hands.

"No," Sachiko murmured, and the alarms only blew stronger in her head, but this time, somebody was shielding her from them: That _somebody _that she had always known, but had forgotten existed; the part which her family had so unmercifully crushed every time it had poked its head out and stood up to their conditioning.

When Sachiko's grandmother died, it had fought tooth and nail with the side of her that refused to be seen crying in public. It had fought with every ounce of its courage to do the thing which required the most bravery of all, and let her guard down around Yumi; it had almost succeeded, many times, and so Sachiko had called it cowardice, and had called her cowardice bravery.

_True strength, _it said, its voice clear and true, poking its head out from its grave for the first time in many months, _comes from trusting others. _

And Sachiko knew it was right.

So she let herself be held. And after a while, she took Yumi in her arms and held her close as well, and_ then _her _petite soeur _did what she had been desperately needing to do for so long: She began to cry softly, and the pressure about Sachiko's breasts increased as Yumi pulled her _onee-sama _close.

"I missed you, Yumi," Sachiko whispered, speaking with honesty so pure it was relieving. "I missed you so much. I…" _didn't know what to do with myself without you, and all those things that _you _taught _me—_how to be honest, with others and with myself; how to let my guard down and vent all of the pressure that never stops building inside of me…I forgot all of them. _

Her mother's voice went silent. Of course it did: It wasn't really her mother. It was her; it was her own cowardice, taught to her by somebody who was afraid of her daughter's strength, afraid of her daughter becoming independent of her, of not needing her anymore; by somebody, maybe, who was just afraid of being truly alone.

"I know, _onee-sama,_"Yumi whispered, her hands trembling on Sachiko's jaw.

_She didn't miss you; _that voice, that horrible, terrible voice, seemed to have redoubled itself. _ She doesn't need you. _You're _the one so dependant on_

_Shut up. Shut up, you horrible, horrible woman, and get the hell away from me._

And the voice fell silent again, and this time, Sachiko thought, it was gone for good. It was a mistake that would, eventually, nearly cost her everything she held dearly to herself, but perhaps, for now, it was necessary.

After all, if she didn't relieve her stress, how would she be able to leave the hospital bed?

Not that, right now, she had any intention of moving anywhere.

--

Yumi tracked their doctor down about half an hour later, after she and Sachiko had stopped crying, and spoken a few choice words to each other. Most of them had been words of endearment, but not all—some had been about more present things. She was only gone for perhaps ten minutes, but they were not easy minutes for Sachiko, who felt a little niggle at the back of her head almost as soon as the girl left: A children's tune, familiar in the way that a man you saw every day but never spoke to might have been familiar:

_All-gone all-gone cattail fish is all-gone, ne'er seen again_

_ where to where to into the sea its so blue; now we start again_

_All-gone all-gone its all-gone. _

It gnawed at the back of her sanity for reasons that she couldn't explain, but she shut it out. It was easier this time.

The doctor, who arrived alongside Yumi, gave Sachiko a final examination—her eyes, her mouth, her heartbeat, (a little weak, but that was to be expected, he said, just no more blood-thinners). He even gave a quick examination of the foul-smelling pan near Sachiko's bed, and then asked Sachiko if she had been under a lot of stress lately.

Not knowing what else to say, Sachiko nodded, and he told her to keep away from whatever it was for a while—stress, he said, caused an influx of stomach acid, which was what caused that burning feeling people felt in their stomachs when they were nervous or anxious. He added, in the sort of undertone usually reserved for talking about private bodily functions, that if she was fond of the bottle or the pipe, now would be a good time to give those up as well. She told him that she did nothing of the sort, and he smiled jovially, as though he hadn't said anything at all. "You're excused," he said. "Just get plenty of rest, take your medication—I gave you your prescription, didn't I? Good—and make sure you take it easy for a while." He flashed them an easy smile, and Sachiko immediately understood why Sei had trusted him. It was the kind of smile that said, _just between us. All of this is just between us._

The doctor left, and Sachiko got dressed—Yumi had brought her fresh clothes when they'd left for the hospital—behind a curtain, since the glass windows into the hall were large enough that a nurse could see a patient if the door was closed and she was in trouble.

When they walked out of the hospital, it was hand-in-hand, Sachiko's heart burning as it hadn't in a long time; not since Lillian, and a sweeter time than this had been.

Yumi seemed a little distant, but she had told Sachiko about that well in advance: She was thinking. About what, Sachiko didn't know, but she allowed herself to be content in waiting. Yumi would speak when she was good and ready.

She always did.


	7. 6: Break of Dawn

A/N

Welcome back, everyone! It's been quite a long time, I know. I'm sorry about that, really I am. I've given my other two running stories "streaks" now, so to speak, and that means it's Fake's turn. I'll try to kick out about three chapters before I'm done. It won't be fast, but it'll be all I work on, so it'll be faster.

As I think about it more and more, I realize that this will never be anywhere near as long as Resolution, my other fic. Primarily, this is because I am unable to come up with a plot befitting of anything but a novella's length—were I talented enough to hold this story from many perspectives, and let it stretch out, perhaps I could stretch it out, but alas, I have no such gift. In a way, this makes it easier to write—accepting that the plot will be small and uncomplicated makes something much easier than it would be if I kept pushing myself to come up with some hairbrained scheme. I will be taking time to explore all the characters I have in here, but it will all be from Sachiko's viewpoint, I think. Don't quote me on that, though.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for supporting me in this. Life is tough for me in a lot of ways right now, you know? I'm glad this is one of the ways it's not tough. You guys rock, seriously. Thank you, dear Constant Readers. (Quoth Stephen King).

So, dear reader, I suppose now it's on with the show. Enjoy yourselves.

Finally, I put a joke from Resolution in this chapter. Gold star if you find it.

* * *

_As the fire died to ashes, a man came asking for directions / wanted to know the way to the Promised Land._

_No one knew the way._

* * *

Chapter 6

Break of Dawn

Yumi and Sachiko met up with the rest of them just outside of the hospital; Sei was leaning against a wall, dirtying her coat more than Sachiko would have thought appropriate. The rain had stopped, the sun had come out, at least for the moment, and the humidity was very nearly staggering—why they were outside, then, was beyond Sachiko, but she allowed herself to dismiss it. She was quite certain, if Sei was involved, that there was probably no reason for it.

"Sachiko!" Yoshino cried as they caught sight of them. She began to move towards them, but was caught about the shoulder by Rei, who smiled at her gently. Yoshino looked back at the taller girl, and for a second, Sachiko was quite certain that they'd had an argument, right there, in that near-immeasurable timespan. The next second, Yoshino relaxed and smiled at the two of them, alongside Rei.

It was funny, Sachiko thought, noticing this for the first time—though the two of them were barely alike at all, their smiles were nearly identical, from the way their lips creased gently at the tip, to the barest hint of white showing in the center of the grin, to the way their eyes followed only slightly, a rare display of pure affection. Sachiko wondered if the two smiled like this in private, at each other, and if it was perhaps a bit like looking into a mirror.

"Miss Ogasawara," came a voice from behind Sachiko. Perhaps a harsher voice might have startled her, but this voice, soft and flowing, a bit like a peaceful river, probably couldn't have done it in the most nerve-wrackingly frightening situations, let alone on a humid day outside of a hospital. "You're all right. I'm very relieved." It was quite apparent that she was, as well.

Sachiko turned her whole body to face the newcomer—Shimako—and bowed slightly to her. Out of all of them, this was the girl that Sachiko knew the least, and was therefore inclined to be the most exceedingly polite to. "Please excuse the trouble I've caused you," Sachiko said; it was about as humble as she ever was, really. Humbleness was the only part of being a lady which did not, even now, come naturally to her.

_If you have to apologize, you have failed in some respect. You should never have to apologize, but if you must make a mistake, make a quiet one, _her teachers had said. Manners coaches. Old, spent women whose only remaining joy in life was shaping Sachiko's.

_Horrid people. _It was the first time in many years that Sachiko had felt comfortable even thinking that. As awful as it was to say about a person, Sachiko knew it was true. It was, in fact, one of the few things that she and Suguru didn't silently clash about—the two of them had shared a manner's coach as children.

Shimako only smiled, perhaps as though she hadn't heard Sachiko at all. Perhaps her smile was a sign that she had. For Shimako, words were not precisely a common thing to begin with. She wasn't quiet, precisely; simply not given to unnecessary conversation.

If Sachiko had looked around then, she might have seen Sei, standing straight now, peering at Shimako with a strange mix of affection and curiosity. Were Sachiko privy to Yumi's thoughts at the moment, she might have known that Shimako's voice had contained a genuine note of relief.

Perhaps if she'd been aware of both of these, she might have put the pieces together. It wasn't important, not really, not to anybody but Yumi and Sei; but what was important to Yumi was important to Sachiko. She had decided that a long time ago.

Silence for a moment. Something Sachiko was still not entirely comfortable with. She wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure what to say. Her stomach still hurt a little—the doctor they'd spoken to had told her that this was likely to be the case for quite a while—and really, she just wanted to get home.

_No. That's a lie._

She didn't want to go back home. Not back _there. _Normally, she could at least relax there when nobody was around—shut herself in the study and read, or (heaven forbid she fill her head with that drivel) watch television on occasion. Their family had a massive television—it had been mistaken for one of the room's walls, on occasion—but it seemed that only the men were allowed to use it. It was an unspoken rule, and one whose violations would go unpunished, but it was there nonetheless. Set in place not by the men, but by the coaches. _If you have nothing better to do than fill your head with that mindless drivel, teach yourself a useful skill. Knit. Cook. You've been gifted with an enormous house; use it. _Really, Sachiko thought, it was very backwards. Very misogynistic, which was odd since it had all come from women.

She didn't want to go back there, where all she could do was read, or teach herself a _useful household skill. _

I can teach you a _really _useful household skill, one that'll actually get you somewhere, _the old man said, brushing up against her shoulder. He had been a coach's husband, a spent old man whose only remaining joy in life was ruining others'. _

Sachiko shook her head. There was no use thinking about  
_not thinking about that_  
that now, was there?

She smiled slightly. "Well," she said as best she could, "there's no purpose left in standing around here, is there? I suppose we should call someone to come pick us up." _Stupid girl, what are you doing? You don't want to go home. _Part of her—most of her, really—said it with every hope that somebody would contradict her.

The funny thing about hope was that it rarely ran parallel with one's expectations. Perhaps that was why she was so surprised when Sei said, "No reason for that, Sachiko. I've got a car right here."

Yumi's eyes widened, and for a moment, Sachiko thought wildly that her eyes might very well pop out of their sockets. The next second, Yumi was shaking her head violently. "No!" she said, as seriously as she could. "Sa…_Onee-sama _has a very bad stomach right now, Sei, and the last thing she needs is you driving her around!"

Sei nearly threw her head back as she laughed. Sachiko had to hold herself in from doing the same, though the rest of them looked more or less nonplussed. In fairness, Sachiko had no idea what Yumi was on about either—it was more the feeling of the thing. Yumi had no trouble being serious, but her expressive, endearing face—which shifted more rapidly than Sachiko could sometimes keep up with—made it difficult to take her seriously when she was trying so hard to fight against something. Sachiko felt a little bad thinking this, in all honesty. "Yumi," Sei said, very obviously fighting to keep tears of mirth in her eyes. "How you wound me! I'm a fine driver!"

"No!" Yumi repeated, shaking her head. "You're frightening, at _best!_" Though in truth, Sachiko knew, Suguru was by and far a scarier driver than Sei could ever possibly be.

"How cruel," Sei mock-sighed, "clinging so hard to your harsh judgment of me, derived from my very first inaugural drive. How harsh do the small-minded make my existence!"

_What…_

"Hey," Yoshino said, grinning, "I was in the car driving here too! I don't think I'd want you driving me either! You're _scary, Rosa Gigantea! _So reckless!"

"Yoshino," Rei murmured. "Please do not offend _Rosa Gigantea._" She paused, and then with a wry grin, added, "though I have to admit, the thought of taking another run in your car is unpleasant, at best."  
_What…  
What is this feeling?_

"Oi, I didn't hear you complaining when we were on our way here!"

"That may have been because you weren't listening to us, Miss Satou."  
_Is it jealousy?_

Sachiko stood, watching the four of them playfully battle it out. Simply stood. They had not formed some new convex formation, deliberately blocking all others out with their bulbous, strangely exclusive shape.

_Is it loneliness? Sadness at being excluded? They're talking about you, without you. _

_That can't be intentional. They're your friends. Break in._

_And say what? Something harsh and chastising? Something prim and proper? What would I say at a time like this? They can banter so…naturally. I don't think I ever learned the art. I can't just break in and stop them from having fun._

"I was focusing on the road!"

"I think you should focus on the weight of your foot, is what I think," Yoshino said. "Stop using your lead heels."_  
They all like Sei. No, that's not right. They all find her…_  
fun.

Somebody was gently tugging on her sleeve. She looked, and it was Shimako. The girl wasn't smiling, but there was a strange sort of grin which seemed to stem from her entire face. Her eyes, which were not focused on Sachiko but on something in front of them, held the silent command, _look there, quick before you miss it. _Sachiko had ever been good at reading silent hints—she had come to learn that most of the most important hints _were _silent—and so followed the trail of the short, pretty girl's line of sight. Straight ahead, and then at

_Yumi._

Yumi, no longer focused on the half-jolly banter which had come to encapsulate Sei, Yoshino, and Rei. Yumi, no longer attempting to hide her embarrassment—the subtle, amused sort of embarrassment that comes from well-employed, gentle teasing—but gazing at Sachiko.

No, that wasn't right. _Staring _at Sachiko. Staring with worry etched in each and every line of her face, one hand unconsciously balled into a fist, clutched with the other hand into her breast. When Sachiko's eyes met hers, she jumped with the surprise that was expected of somebody caught staring, but did not whip her head away, desperate not to be caught for an extended length of time. For a second, they simply locked eyes, and then Sachiko did something she didn't expect, and smiled at Yumi.

The  
_What was it? Jealousy? Longing? That funny pull at her chest, that little vacuum at the back of her head._  
feelingvanished immediately. That awful feeling of being on the outside, while the girl  
_woman_  
she  
_liked_  
was close to was on the inside, being close to somebody else. By all means, Sachiko thought, a childish feeling, but who could really help it?

_Who indeed? _The new voice inside her head said, bearing its own half-motherly grin. _Time was, you'd have chastised yourself for days over that. You've come far, and fast, Sachiko. _

It was quite possibly the first time in her life that Sachiko could remember that little inner monologue of hers saying something like that. Saying _good job, _instead of _next time, do better._

She smiled. Smiled at herself, and smiled at Yumi.

"—bladder!" Yoshino said, positively upset now, or at least feigning it. She wasn't hard to get a rise out of, in any case—she was probably the only person taking Sei's antics seriously. "You think I want to ruin my pants like that?"

"I don't think I'd let you in my car if I thought you'd do something like that," Sei grinned. "Maybe I just have to make sure that doesn't happen." Her grin was very nearly predatory, and Rei put a hand on Yoshino's shoulder, her face mock-protective.

"None of that, please, _Rosa Gigantea._" She said it with the patience of a longtime nanny chastising her charge—mildly amused, but virtually endless, so long as her paycheck still came every week.

Sei, indefatigable, said, "Maybe I ought to make _doubly _sure, then."

_Time was also, you'd have made yourself not care about being on the outside. About not really being a part of what's going on around you, because you were too concerned with being _Sachiko Ogasawara, _upright heir to a powerful company that's been promised to her husband, if she'll have him. _

As the three playfully argued, Yumi moved. Slowly, so as not to be noticed—though, really, nobody would have spoken on it if she had been, and wasn't Shimako watching anyway? She edged closer, first simply feigning a sort of idle, restless-leg pace, and then shifting to a gentle shuffle. Before Sachiko could really process it, Yumi was standing next to her, a small grin on her face, facing the rest of the group.

If Sachiko had asked Shimako about it, Shimako might have said, were she feeling talkative, that she believed that Yumi was blushing a little—indeed, she might have said, it seemed that there was a bit of color present in Yumi's cheeks, color which had nothing to do with the humidity. Sachiko did not ask Shimako about it, however, and so the thing went unsaid.

If Yumi had asked Sei about it, (and presented her with an appropriate offering) Sei might have admitted that she believed that Sachiko, who she was watching quite intently out of the corner of her eye, had a small grin on her face. A smile which had nothing to do with Sei's attempts to keep Rei and Yoshino occupied for as long as possible, so that Yumi and Sachiko could decide for themselves what to do, and so that Shimako could, just maybe, mix with them a little. Yumi did not ask Sei about it, however, and so this thing went unsaid as well.

Maybe it was just as well.

"What do you think, _Onee-sama?_" Yumi said quietly. "Would you like to go back?"  
_and do what_  
"What would you like, Yumi?"

Yumi's small grin widened, and it occurred to Sachiko that perhaps Yumi wasn't so deep in thought anymore. That maybe she'd made up her mind. Sachiko wasn't quite sure what to make of that yet, so she put it aside for now.

"I think I'd like to go for a drive," she said. "I don't think Sei should drive, since I don't know if your stomach could handle anything like that—"

"I don't believe anybody's stomach here is entirely up to making such a drive twice," Shimako interjected with a sweet smile, and Yumi clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from chortling at this—Shimako did not have a harsh tongue, not by any means, but she did have a sharp sort of wit about her.

"Oi," Sei said with a grin, loud enough to make it clear who her intended audience was. "Too far, now. Besides, don't think you're going anywhere in _my _car without _me._" Rei and Yoshino seemed far less surprised than they ought to have been at suddenly being interrupted like this, which led her to believe that perhaps her intended distraction was nowhere near as useful as she thought it might have been.

Rei said, "I think that's all right. I have a car at home that could fit all of us, anyway, and that way, none of us would have to put up with Sei driving again."

_A drive._

Strangely enough, that sounded wonderful to Sachiko. Sachiko, who had spent her entire life in spacious limousines. Sachiko, who was used to slow, courteous drivers, and who positively refused to ride with the one man who violated that trend.

More than that, she wanted to do it with Sei. Sachiko had a strange idea in her head: She had an idea that if they waited for Sei to drive Rei back to her house, for Rei to drive Sei back to her house to deposit her car, for all of them to return back to the hospital to pick up the rest of the group, and then for them to follow the calm, unenthusiastic mood with a calm, unenthusiastic discussion of where to joyride to, it would no longer be a joyride. It would be a drab, polite way to spend an afternoon and an evening.

Yumi didn't want it that way. Yumi wanted Sachiko to be comfortable. She knew—rightly so—that in the rare cases in which Sachiko was uncomfortable, things did not become pleasant. Sachiko was not somebody who lost her composure often, and so she was not experienced in dealing with it. Sei was prone to lose people their composure.

Yumi also wanted to do something that Sachiko had never really considered. She wanted to go out, and have fun for its own sake. Why? Because why not, that was why. Something so coordinated could never be enjoyable like that, because in coordinating it, they would remove every last ounce of adventure. Suck it dry.

Sachiko had this odd idea, and, for possibly the first time in her life—perhaps it was the odd weather, or perhaps it was this peculiar lightheaded feeling she got as Yumi quietly intertwined their hands again—she acted on it.

"No," she said quietly. "I think we can all squish into Sei's car long enough to make it to something more comfortable."

Rei gaped in open-mouthed wonder, as did Yumi. Shimako grinned a little at Sei, who winked back.

Sachiko held her breath, waiting for the verdict. This was, after all, still a democracy of sorts.

"I think that's an excellent idea," Yoshino said. "Positively marvelous, although I have to admit, also positively idiotic."

For a second, Sachiko feared—

She thought that Yoshino was—

That then, all of them would—

But then again, Sachiko didn't know Yoshino very well.

"So," Yoshino continued, "I suppose your silence means that I've staked my claim on the passenger's seat without challenge."

Yumi cracked first, smiling and nodding, and then laughing. The rest of them followed shortly. Even Sachiko.

So easily was the course of Sachiko's life and happiness decided, that she would later wonder if she did, indeed, have any control over it at all.

Not that it mattered.

* * *

Wow. Very little happened in this chapter. Like, nothing. 

Oh well. Such is life. More soon!


	8. 7: Sooner or Later

A/N:

Okay. So I just bought Final Fantasy XII. It's kind of eating my life. Therefore, forgive me if my updates are less than punctual until the novelty of the thing wears off. Also, forgive me if Sachiko inadvertently pulls a blade and begins dueling with Sei. And, you know, if Yumi grows bunny-ears and a stunning figure.

Um. Anyway.

This chapter went through _sans _beta, primarily because I'm behind enough as it is, and I think it's all right. If you see any major problems with it, be sure to let me know and I'll go over it more carefully with my awesome beta, Sumiregawa Nenene and re-upload it. As it is, I typically make corrections for a few days after I post a chapter.

Seems like chapter 6 was less than well-received. If you believe there to be an unforgivable error with it, please, let me know, as always. I live off of reviews, but more, I crave criticism. I suppose you could say that this means that I simply love the abuse.

As always, thanks for reading!

* * *

_I want a normal life / just like a newborn child_

* * *

Chapter 7  
Sooner or Later

* * *

**One**

* * *

Sachiko had thought that her daily challenge had been and gone. Dealing with a peptic ulcer lashing out at her by way of her esophagus had seemed enough trouble for at least one twenty-four hour period to her, though she'd never complain about it, and she wasn't in any mood to further strain herself in that hot parking lot, where the air was thick enough to suffocate somebody who wasn't used to it (though to those who were, it seemed little more than one of those little annoyances that never quite goes away—comparable perhaps to unkempt sidewalks after a snowy day). She was, in fact, tired. She wanted to go on a drive, yes, but she wanted to relax, too. Or at least not have to strain herself again.

That, it seemed, was not in the cards quite yet, however, for their new challenge approached them almost as soon as their decision had been reached: How to fit every member of their group into Sei's tiny Volkswagen Beetle? None of them, as far as Sachiko knew, had anywhere else to be, after all, and Yumi and Yoshino were willing to leave none of them behind, even if only to wait for a ride. After all, what good would such careless driving do if you had to confirm your every turn with the driver behind you? She supposed that originally, none of them had particularly thought about the size of Sei's car as being an issue—they had all expected that a car which was suitable for joyriding would be able to fit any number of people, in only mild discomfort.

It never occurred to Sachiko that she was, perhaps, overthinking the entire thing, the entire endeavor of _joyriding. _

Sei was the first to notice the problem, though it didn't appear to be, to her, problematic so much as one more source of amusement, as everything else seemed to be to her (in Sachiko's eye, anyway). She said it in an offhand sort of way, as they all started to make their way towards the car: "If Yoshino is getting the front, I suppose that means that the rest of you ought to be very comfortable with each other, huh? It almost makes me want to let Rei drive." She said it with a lopsided, strangely charming smile. A moment later, still walking, she dug into her pocket and produced a small key ring with a single key and a remote on it. It was the latter that she fiddled with for a moment, until something _blipped _not far off. A second time, and Sachiko's eyes became drawn to the car, and her mind became drawn to the problem: Sei's car was a bug. A beetle. A tiny little car that probably couldn't suit more than four, in Sachiko's mind, let alone seven. None of the others commented on it for whatever reason—_whatever reason _being, unbeknownst to Sachiko, that they had already spent one screaming, gorge-rising, rubber-burning drive inside of it, cramped together, and the thought of another didn't seem too awful.

To Sachiko, it seemed a deal-breaker. _How could we possibly fit that many people inside such a small car? _It seemed almost like a physical impossibility, the exclusive property of clowns and midgets the world over.

At this, Yumi began to flush a bit, and Sachiko wondered a bit at her. Her face was a bit reminiscent of how it was when she was deep in thought, but there was something else to it this time—a wideness of her eyes, an unusual straightness to her posture, so much so that it seemed for a moment that Yumi might bend backwards. "How…how do you think we should double up?" she asked Sei. _Double up _bounced off of Sachiko's eardrums in the way that a word in another language might bounce off of a casual speaker's ear, so she didn't think much on it—had she, she might have been significantly less surprised that Yumi had asked Sei instead of Yoshino, or Shimako, or even Sachiko herself.

Sei smiled back at Yumi and winked. "I think that's up to you kids to decide. I'm just the chauffeur, you know?"

The whole thing was entirely unintelligible to Sachiko, who had grown up riding in spacious sedans and limousines. _But why did she ask _Sei? _Sei, of all people. _

Yumi looked to Shimako, who only smiled, her expression entirely unreadable; she looked to Rei, who shrugged a mite helplessly, with an exasperation that only the old should have been able to feel with the young. Finally, she looked at Sachiko, who smiled at her, entirely baffled by this point.

"_Onee-sama,_" she said, nearly tripping over her own tongue, "would you like to…if it's okay with you…I mean," she stopped, and pulled in a deep breath, drawing her hands towards her stomach, to clasp directly over her belly-button—a trick Sachiko had taught her one day before she had had to give a speech for the Yamayurikai.

_If you feel yourself losing your composure, take in one single deep breath, _she'd said, _and stop whatever it was you were saying. To cover this, simply give a smile and do not respond to any questions or murmurs from your audience—_and Yumi was, indeed, smiling, and Sachiko had an idea that Yumi wouldn't budge that expression if Sei had declared her intent to marry her in that instant—_and clasp your hands over your stomach. Like this, yes, as though you were singing an opera. Let your breath out, and then begin speaking again, keeping your hands clasped firmly. Whenever you feel unconfident, after that, simply tug at your hands rather than engaging in a stutter or nervous habit, and remember: You have ensnared your audience such that they were unable to budge you even though you fell silent for a full ten seconds, with no reason._

She had taught this to Yumi kindly, but in a voice that had seemed a bit odd to her—her voice had actually been slightly lower as she spoke. More like her mother's. She thought that maybe it had just been a symptom of a cold or some other such trivial nonsense at the time. Now, perhaps, she knew better.

Yumi exhaled, and Sachiko brought her attention back to the girl, who had not, it appeared, been fazed by the sudden relative silence. Even the background noise—the constant, seemingly inescapable hum of traffic, of the birds, of the insects—seemed to fade for a moment.

Then she spoke.

"Sachiko-_onee-sama_," she said, her voice now clear and true, "if you like、would you please consider doubling up with me for our ride?" She kept her eyes firmly fixed somewhere between Sachiko's breasts and her jawbone as she spoke--the only hint she provided as to how nervous she actually was.

Sachiko smiled at her, the reality of what she was being asked to do still not striking home—to her, it was still just an odd foreign word, some verb that she perhaps had not picked up properly over the course of her English instruction. "Of course I will," she said with that same grin. Her promise had the same validity as if it'd been made for her by somebody else entirely—a promise made while intoxicated, or perhaps while uninformed. She might have thought that those two were not so dissimilar.

Yumi's face lit up, and it seemed to Sachiko like the dénouement of a dreary day, or perhaps the climax of a happy one, her expression a ray of sunlight unabated by the clouds of the doubt that she would invariably experience later—as most did. Sei said, "Hurry it up already, would you? Or announce the wedding, or something. Rain's coming back soon, and I'd like not to get my baby dirty so soon after I gave her a bath."

"You sound a little like a very old woman who gets very excited over her cats, _Onee-sama,_" Shimako said quietly and politely. "If you'll excuse my interruption." She had a little grin on her face, one which Sachiko did not notice, but Sei did—Sei thought it to be very much a shit-eating grin, one which none of the rest here—save, perhaps, for Yumi, who Sei thought probably knew her _petite soeur _best—would have believed in for a moment, like some strange incarnation of a boogieman hiding just under a young, pretty girl's young, pretty nose.

Shimako, however light and airy she may have seemed at times, was not without depth and edge; she was only very reserved and restrained, as Lillian had taught them all to be.

Or most of them anyway, Sei thought with a little shit-eating grin of her own. _Most of them._

* * *

**Two**

* * *

"_Doubling up." _Sachiko intoned it very carefully, giving each syllable its own particular emphasis, so as not to botch up an unfamiliar word—not such a danger in Japanese as in Chinese, which Sachiko knew a little of, though speaking improperly still bore its own dangers and consequences. Sachiko didn't speak so in order to avoid an embarrassing mistake, however. She said it as though she wanted to clarify it. _You said _double up, _right? Yes, double up. _Double up. _Yes, double up. _Dou…ble…up._ Yes, that's it exactly. _

_Then, what precisely is _this?

_It's doubling up, silly. Sitting two to a seat. Most uncomfortable and dangerous, not to mention illegal. Doubling up. Fun, isn't it? Like a game, only the goal is to stay out of jail and keep all your teeth. Doubling up. Some kind of fun. _

Sachiko could, at first, only see this half of what she had agreed to when Yumi asked her to please spread her legs as she sat, so that she wouldn't lose circulation as they drove. Sachiko had done so willingly enough, and then said it, said, "_Doubling up._"

Yumi said, "Yes, doubling up," as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and then she'd begun to crawl over her _Onee-sama_ like a cat or a lover—the two were, according to the former at least, interchangeable—and Sachiko had caught on at last, and her mind jumped into its little tirade.

At last, she managed to say, "Yumi, forgive me for being rude, but isn't this illegal?" _That's probably why I never considered it to be a viable possibility in the first place—everybody has that little side of them that wants to do wrong, but I don't think _this _sort of wrong ever occurred to me. That must be it. I'm not _that _out of touch,_ that _naïve._

_Yes, _she thought, _that must be it. I'm not stupid. This is a bad idea, one beyond even my own capacity for bad ideas_  
self-doubt must be kept to oneself for a lady who fishes appears as a fisher long at sea  
_but…_

"I know it is, _Onee-sama,_" Yumi said, her voice a little sheepish, as it usually was when she was called out on something, "but since we only have this one car, and…"

"Yes," Sachiko's voice dropped to a whisper, so the rest, still outside, couldn't hear her, "but isn't this something more suited for Rei and Yoshino? People who," _are comfortable like this arent they. _She stopped. People who what?

_People who are comfortable like this. Aren't they._

_Aren't you?_

Yumi stopped moving, chewed on her lip for a moment, considering the fabric of the seat. Then, tentatively, "Do you not want to…" _do this? You sound like a_  
lover  
…_Like a what?  
_  
"I just…I didn't expect it, that's all," Sachiko said, privately wondering why she was arguing. It would be nice to hold Yumi as this would necessitate—she been close to Yumi before like _that_, and the girl's gentle warmth was always comforting.

_And the feeling of her hands, holding mine to her stomach, asking me to shelter her. _It had only happened once, but…

A word had occurred to her then, as it occurred to her now: _Irony. _After all, wasn't this ironic? How lovingly she had embraced Yumi not an hour before, and how lovingly she had been embraced? And how she now fought against doing the exact same thing?

_But it's illegal. It's unsafe. _It sounded to her almost like whining, and the only people who whined were the fearful. Wasn't that one of the important lessons she'd learned?

_Learned from who?_

_From myself._

_Then who spoke to me before, telling me to silence my doubt?_

_Wasn't that also myself? _

She supposed that maybe it was. Sachiko wondered briefly if this was some form of schizophrenia, and then dismissed it. Insanity was a staple of the rich sort, but not in a form that could be diagnosed by modern medicine. _Not unless agonizing repression has found its way into med schools without my noticing. _

_So then, _said that voice of _me _with which Sachiko was so ill-acquainted, _I ask you, what is it that you're whining about? _

She couldn't answer. She supposed that was a sign of progress.

"But," she said, "I suppose that's all right. Please have a seat, Yumi." She spread her legs a bit and patted the space between them, silently thankful that she wasn't wearing a skirt. Yumi smiled brightly, and crawled over her _Onee-sama _as gracefully as she could—a valiant effort to retain some semblance of propriety, but futile nonetheless: There was simply no way to be proper as you crawled on somebody, putting parts of yourself in places where they had no business being outside of a bedroom, trying desperately not to slip and botch the whole business—and, after a momentary struggle with gravity and a seemingly frictionless seat fabric which should not have existed outside of an introductory physics course, Sachiko found Yumi seated neatly between her legs, the tip of her head just barely touching Sachiko's nose.

Sachiko smiled, allowed herself to lean forward slightly. As gently as she could, she inhaled deeply, taking in the girl's scent and letting it wash over her, bringing her entire body to a sort of peace she hadn't known in months. If Yumi—or Shimako, now beginning her own graceless clamber into the middle seat (it seemed that small cars such as this simply had it out for proper Ladies such as they)—noticed this, they said nothing of it.

As Shimako seated herself, Sachiko found that she had yet another dilemma to contend with—where to place her hands. Perhaps the others knew, having _doubled up_ (it still sounded moderately foreign to her) before—perhaps they had some otherworldly sense of how to go about this whole messy business, in fact—but Sachiko was completely at a loss. She raised her hand, previously resting precisely where Shimako's posterior was aimed, and let it hang in the air for a moment, as though to hail a taxi, or perhaps simply to ask her, _where to, buddy? _

Yumi's hand darted up, taking Sachiko's hanging limb with all the quick, mildly amused grace of a lover wiping a crumb from her partner's lip—possibly with something other than a napkin or a handkerchief—and brought it down, down to  
_Warm  
Her hand is warm_  
her stomach, held it there firmly for a moment, as though her shirt were an odd sort of glue, and she wanted to make sure it stayed just so.

Another word occurred to Sachiko at this point, completely out of the blue—odd, for her, but extremely well timed, as the other had been: _Opportunism. _

_Is that what this is? And if so, on whose part? _She supposed _that _was the real kicker, the question worth _all _the tea.

Or maybe it was precisely the opposite. Maybe it didn't matter at all. A moment later she found her other hand—this one committing no offenses against anyone's posterior—in a similar position, a gentle force pressing it into Yumi's small belly. She could imagine Yumi's face at this point—undoubtedly burning red—innocent, ready with some sort of excuse for the action, like _they weren't symmetrical. It would have driven you crazy, _Onee-sama.

Sachiko, however, demanded no such excuse. She only smiled and took another breath, feeling herself utterly at peace for a moment.

It was a lovely feeling indeed.

* * *

**Three**

* * *

It was only a few minutes later that Sei closed the driver's side door and started the engine with a cry of, "Let's be off, then!" but it seemed to Sachiko an epoch, a span of time in which an entire era might have shifted. It reminded her of how she felt after coming fully awake from a long, restful doze after a stressful day. (And really, what day in the life of a Lady _wasn't _a bit stressful, _for care must always be taken)._

This relaxed state lasted all of two minutes after the engine cleared its throat once, twice, and then started, humming and rumbling underneath her butt in a way that she wasn't used to—all of her family's cars had top-of-the-line mufflers. In the first minute, Yumi said, (speaking for the first time since putting Sachiko's hands on her belly—probably she was savoring the feeling as much as her _Onee-sama _was) "_Onee-sama_, I think you should move your head."

"Hmm?" Sachiko said, not as surprised as she should have been to find her voice a little bleary. "Why?"

"Because…well.…" At this, Yumi faltered a little, and Yoshino peered over the seat ahead of them.

"Because Sei drives like a madwoman, and I think Yumi wants to tell you that if you keep your head there, you're likely to crack your teeth," Yoshino said, a sly little grin on her face that Sachiko didn't trust a bit.

"Oi, sit down over there," Sei said, peering over as she set the car to backing out—a bit too quickly for Sachiko's liking, but the parking lot was empty, wasn't it? That was all. The others had talked, but Sei couldn't be _that _bad of a driver, right?

_Right?_

Even so, she moved her head, craning it forward a bit so that she could rest it on Yumi's shoulder. The sensation was not unpleasant.

_What's wrong with you? _something small inside of her said, in a voice she didn't recognize. _You're like a horny little schoolgirl, relishing every little chance you get to come in physical contact with your _Petite Soeur_. Where is your _shame?

_What's wrong with it? _she argued back, something she never would have done before._ What's wrong with touching somebody if touching them makes us _both _happy? I haven't felt so relaxed in_

_What right have you to _relax? The voice said, seeming almost angry. _Who the hell said you could relax_ now? _You're to be wed in less than three months, and—_

_Three months?_ Something sunk out of Sachiko's chest.

That wasn't right, was it? It was still years on the horizon, wasn't it? Not until her first year of university was out, _at least. _

And yet, even so, it made a sick sort of sense to Sachiko. It couldn't have been true, but it made sense.

Then the car jerked into motion—the two of them, Sachiko and Yumi, were veritably flattened against the back of the seat, and Shimako actually let out a small yelp—as Sei forced her way into traffic, earning Yoshino's title of _lead-foot_, and Sachiko forgot about marriage as she hung on to Yumi's belly for dear life. Yumi laughed a little wildly, Rei shouted at Sei to slow down (Sei acted as though Rei was naught but the wind) and eventually, Sachiko found herself laughing too. A little from fear, a little from excitement, but laughing all the same.

It was wonderful. Perverse, perhaps, but all the same. It was wonderful.

* * *

As always, thanks for reading! And don't forget, if you liked it or if you didn't, to drop me a review and tell me about it! 


	9. 8: Good For You

Author's notes:

I'm alive! After many moons, I have risen from the dead yet again to claim the souls of innocent fanfic readers. My apologies for the delay on this; what with finals, and then taking what time I could with my girlfriend before she left for university again, I haven't had much time to write lately. Next two weeks, probably I will release a chapter on all of my stories. (I cranked this out in a single, empty day, and there are many of those on the horizon).

Thanks as always to my editor, Sumiregawa-kun, for making this legible, so to speak. Speaking of which, she has a new fic out in the Mai-HiME section entitled A Chainlink Wish. You should go check it out; it's awesome. And you will be too, if you read it and review it.

When Sachiko says "Miss Satou," she means something much like _Satou-san. _

And remember, if you like this, or even if you don't, to drop me a review telling me what you think! I love 'em! I feed on 'em! I drink them dry and—er. Yeah. Additionally, I'm curoius to know what you all think of the new format. It certainly makes it easier for me to write, because I don't have to create a perfectly fluid series of events (something which is difficult in a story like this, in which many of the things that happen are simply mundane and not worth mentioning).

* * *

_I say hello / you say hello / we'll always kiss the sky / spring, summer, fall, winter / what a wonderful world_

_We'll walk the unknown path to the sky._

* * *

Chapter 8

Good for You

* * *

**One**

* * *

Sachiko had a driver's license, but only on principle—her family had demanded it of her, almost as soon as she was legally able, just in case. _Just in case what? _She had wondered. _Just in case my driver is assassinated by a group of Yakuza, and my cell phone is out of batteries, and there are no police anywhere nearby, and they leave me stranded in a bad part of town, and my only other way to get home is to walk, which means I may as well put on a short skirt and become a whore, because god damned if a member of the Ogasawara Group is going to _walk _along a perfectly good road. Just in case, that happens, I should have a driver's license. _

The thought had occurred to her rather wildly at the time—a moment of annoyance, perhaps, at the hassle of acquiring something she would never use. Now, however, she was rather happy that she'd gone through the rigorous months of Driver's Ed—it made the car she was riding in seem less like a roller coaster that had derailed itself approximately as soon as it had acquired enough speed with which to do so.

Even so, for the first few minutes of their drive together, Sachiko had a hard time really believing that she was where she was—perhaps the danger of the situation had not yet impressed itself upon her, or perhaps it had simply shocked her into a pleasant, grinning, humming ignorance common in mental institutions. She _observed_ the car in which she was a passenger blazing down the road, weaving between cars with the speed and skill of a motorcyclist begging for an early grave; observed just how far the speedometer read over the speed limit; she_ observed _other, angrier drivers than Sei honking and flashing rude signs at her. She _observed_ her own natural, perfectly understandable fear, but she did not _participate. _It was much the same, one might reflect, as a man whose wife has just died, a man on whom the gravity and weight of loss has not yet taken its toll.

For such a man, there is always a point at which it _hits _him. Where the full weight of everything he no longer has, a vacuum which threatens to turn him inside out and render him a useless hunk of blubber, finds him and does its worst. People rarely _remember _this point; they only remember the transition. One day they were perfectly alright, _coping _with their loss, their problem, _dealing with it _nicely, and the next day they were a mess, a heap, a useless shell good only for producing salt water from the eyes and mucus from the nose at the rate of a toddler with a head cold.

When Sei stopped at her first red light, about five minutes into their drive, two things_ hit _Sachiko. The first was that she was in a life or death situation; that Sei could easily kill the lot of them at any moment, and the only thing she could do about it was shriek, which she had a feeling would go in one of Sei's ears, possibly echo a bit in her head, and then slide lifelessly out the other. If she hit another car going at this speed, Yumi would fly off her lap, and sail up, between the seats, and through the windshield, leaving only rags of Yumi for her to hold tight to her and hug and pat her head when she was sick and…

And the second thing she realized was that she did not know the half of it. She did not know one-quarter of the things inside of her; she was only now just aware of the prospect of losing Yumi, and was only just now aware of the fear that instilled in her. She was afraid of dying herself, and she hadn't known _this _before, either. Two overarching fears which had not been there a single instant before; now threatening to bend her double in pain and anxiety.

And then, a third thing. A third realization, just a little whisper next to the buzzing tension already in her head:

_Three months._

Three.

_Not true._

_Can't be true._

And yet…something about it made an inexplicable sort of sense; it appealed to some intuition that all of us have at one level or another—just as a man who has lost his wallet is calmly certain that it's still somewhere in his house and so does not fret, Sachiko was calmly certain that, whether she liked it or not, she would be married three months from now.

_Three months._

And, another word as well, one that she could not quite put her finger on; something which danced on the tip of her tongue and on the edge of her synapses, but did not come to her.

But that was just stupid intuition. It was just anxiety nagging at her stomach and her head, and that was all it was, there was nothing to do with

Sei stepped on the gas pedal before the other word could occur to her—Lead Foot to the rescue—and Sachiko found her head thrown back against the fabric of the seat, and Yumi's head thrown into her breasts, and they rocketed down the road, none of them speaking but rather conveying their emotions in the most primitive way, by the tones of the noises they made—from Yoshino, a delighted screech; from Shimako, a frightened, meek sound, utterly at odds with the smooth confidence she had displayed entering the car; from Rei, an exasperated sigh. From Yumi, a squeal of excitement, a little like Yoshino's

From Yumi, an excited squeal.

From Yumi.

In spite of all of the fear and anxiety, Sachiko smiled a little bit.

From Sachiko: Barely audible under the sounds of other, louder women, from under the dull hum of the car's engine carrying them smoothly (in all spite of the driver) to their destination, from under the blaring horns of other drivers, angry and uncertain at how such a pretty woman could drive such a small car like such a goddamn drunken man, a small, happy laugh, touched with nervousness and uncertainty, but displaying nonetheless an unmistakable sense of enjoyment and happiness.

And then, from Yumi, unbeknownst to Sachiko, whose only view of the girl was the small, almond curve of her eye, a small grin which had nothing to do with the car ride, and everything to do with the sound coming from her _onee-sama._ _Onee-sama_, whose hands tightened around her waist as she made this small noise.

Yumi folded her hands overtop Sachiko's. "How do you like joyriding,_ onee-sama?_"

Sachiko didn't answer. She didn't need to.

* * *

**Two**

* * *

About midway through the ride, Yoshino and Sei began speaking in hushed tones, their faces the spitting image of a pair of thieves, thick as the cliché, who knew they were about to hit it big.

They did.

* * *

**Three**

* * *

They pulled into Rei's alley about ten minutes later, and piled out of the car in as orderly a fashion as they entered it, which was to say that they managed a fairly decent single file, but they lost, momentarily, the image of genteelness to which most were accustomed to seeing them possess so adequately. First to get out were Sei and Yoshino, being up front, and by the time the mess of piling out of the back seat was through, the two of them had vanished.

"Rei," Sachiko said warily, "Do you know where your _petite soeur _has gone?"

Rei shook her head, shrugging, and Sachiko saw she was thinking precisely the same thing she was: _It's not the fact that Yoshino has gone off somewhere that is troubling. It is the fact that Sei is there as well. _

"What is it, _onee-sama?" _Yumi asked, shaking her head out as she closed the car door behind her. "Is something wrong?" _I probably look as troubled as I ever do in public, so of course she'd be concerned._

"Not at all," Sachiko said mildly. "Nothing to be concerned about, just—"

"Just that Yoshino and Sei seem to have gone off somewhere."

Yumi blinked, apparently nonplussed. "Is that bad?" Sachiko couldn't help but find this mildly annoying—Yumi was probably the only one who didn't see that Sei could sometimes cause genuine trouble along with her harmless jokes; if only because she seemed to lack the restraint which the rest of them—and really, most every other graduate of Lillian—possessed. Honestly, Sachiko could not think of anything more dangerous than a woman who was considered to be a Lady by the entire world, but did not think of herself as being bound by any such title. It was like allowing a well-dressed thief into a roomful of unsuspecting gentry, though Sachiko was sure Yumi would have told her that she was being overdramatic.

It wasn't that Sei wasn't a good person, or at least Sachiko didn't think so. The girl seemed to honestly care about her friends, and seemed willing to go to great lengths to help them if they were in need—_why else would Sei have done what she had done for me?_—rather, it seemed that Sei simply cared nothing for her title or status, and so she could lure Ladies who _were_ conscious of title and statusinto doing things which might damage their reputation, and she could lure them simply because they were not suspicious of her in the least._ Maybe Rei, Yoshino, and Shimako do not have a reputation to consider, but I do, and so does Yumi, because Yumi is mine._

This did not seem possessive in the least to Sachiko. Sei would have understood.

Sachiko sighed. "I believe it may be, Yumi," she said. "I believe it may be."

"I don't understand, _onee-sama_," Yumi said. "What—"

"Oh. Oh dear." This from Shimako.

Oh. Oh dear. Sachiko turned to face where Shimako was looking, towards Yoshino's house, where two feminine figures were advancing on them, their arms laden with…

Oh.

Oh dear.

* * *

**Four**

* * *

Sei had been surprised to find that Yoshino was stronger than she was. She didn't know the girl very well, since she and Rei had never been close, but she had heard about the heart surgery, and so had in mind more of a petite, fragile image of the girl who was now carrying a heavy box—filled with what Sei called _goodies, _which Yoshino did not question, but only smiled a little deviously at. Originally, Sei had thought they would have to make two trips, since Yoshino's small, delicate arms weren't long enough to carry all of the things Sei had clasped to her stomach, and Sei had assumed that Yoshino wouldn't be able to move that box short of dragging it along the ground; she herself had had enough trouble getting it out of the front seat of the car (unnoticed, at that) and into Yoshino's house where they could stock up on a few things that Sei had forgotten to pack.

_Pack? _Yoshino had asked when Sei had first brought it up in the car.

_You bet. We're going on a trip, you know? We need to pack for that._

_I didn't hear anything about that._

_Is that a problem?_

_I don't remember saying that._

It wasn't a problem at all.

Or at least, it wasn't a problem for them. Walking towards the group, their arms laden with what Yoshino (and Sei as well, though for some reason she didn't admit it openly) simply called _stuff, _Sei wondered briefly if it would be a problem for any of _them. _

_Probably, _she decided with a small, predatory grin.

After all, if one was to take a trip to an unknown place for an unknown length of time, it was probably best that at least _one _of the people found the whole thing inconvenient. Inconvenience, after all, was a damn good indication that what you were doing was not only spontaneous, but utterly unusual. And wasn't spontaneity the mother of honesty?

Sei thought so. Trips were a good time to be honest.

_Isn't that a little like kidnapping, though?_

Once again, Sei decided that it probably was, a little grin on her face that Sachiko would not have entirely trusted if she saw it. Not that Sachiko trusted her anyway—Sei was fairly certain Sachiko had precisely zero trust in her, in fact, and it was probably because Sei sometimes acted as though she was out to steal Yumi.

Or at least, that was probably what Sachiko thought. Really, Sei found the whole thing to be a sign of almost pervasive insecurity in the tall, dark-haired girl; maybe that was what she was hoping to get at.

That she was probably being too nosy never crossed her mind. Sachiko was Yumi's _onee-sama, _and the insecurity this girl felt led a lot of people—Yumi included—to a lot of hurt sometimes. That was what insecurity did, after all—that was all it did. It hurt people. And the only way to get at such a closely guarded woman was to get her when she wasn't guarded—something one could only do unexpectedly, spontaneously.

So really, somebody who wasn't Sei might have thought, all Sei wanted to do was help.

Somebody who wasn't Sei was Yoshino, who was cleverer than she let on. She had picked up on this, not by prying at Sei, but simply by listening to her, by watching her.

_All she wants to do is help. God save them all, but I'm going to help too._

Yoshino decided that and never once looked back. She decided that she liked Sei quite a bit.

* * *

**Five**

* * *

Sachiko was the first to react, as was often the case. "Miss Satou," she said, stepping forward, almost as though to shield Yumi from some unseen, unperceived danger, "What is that?"

"Come now," Sei said with a big, open smile. "I'd think that was obvious to somebody as sharp as you, Sachiko. It's a bag of sleeping gear—blankets, pajamas, toothbrushes, and the like. See, look here; you can even see one of the shirts poking its little arm out of there. It's quite large, but it's not heavy, so please, don't fall over yourselves to help me."

Sachiko and Rei could only gape in open-mouthed astonishment; Yumi was watching intently, her face denoting something that was not entirely excitement, but was certainly close; Shimako looked very much like a death-row inmate who has just been informed that, no, her sentence has not been overturned, and would she like to be well-done or extra-crispy. Sei could actually see some of the color drop from her naturally pale face, and she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the girl, who had probably already caught onto what was going on. _She's sharp. She's gonna do fine._

Sharp, yes.

Good at dealing with people…

Not so much. If Shimako were ever to come to her for help—an impossibility, undoubtedly—that would probably be where she started and finished.

_Who the hell are you to offer to help a girl like that anyway?_

Sei shook her head, and Sachiko frowned; not because of the unexpected movement, but because it was a motion she recognized—it was the quick toss of the head of somebody who felt that their situation necessitated a clearer mind but _now. _ Of somebody whose head was nagging at them, and of somebody who could think of no other, no better way than to try and rattle it into submission. A twinge of empathy crossed over her chest, though she kept it from her face.

"And what," Sachiko said, "are you planning on doing with a bag of sleeping supplies, Miss Satou?"

"I plan on using them to sleep," Sei said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I hope you plan on doing the same, because otherwise you're probably going to smell quite bad quite soon, and I'm not sure Yumi or I will particularly appreciate that."

Yoshino giggled at this, and Sachiko, suddenly redder in the face than she had expected Sei to be able to make her, stepped back. "I don't think I understand, Sei. Please, explain yourself." Her tone suggested that she understood perfectly, and Sei knew in an instant that she was trying to overpower her, trying to get her to back down—not because she didn't want to go, necessarily—she hadn't had enough time to make up her mind about that yet, and she may not even be certain that that was precisely what was going on—but because that was what Sachiko did if she was confronted by one of her own in a place where nobody was watching: She pushed back. Yumi could attest to that. She would never do it in public, nor to anybody who she was not intimately familiar with. Sei supposed that she should take that as flattery unto itself.

Sei took a deep breath and then grinned widely again, trying to drown out that little niggle in the back of her head that kept informing her as loudly as it could that she was making a huge, terrible, unimaginably large mistake as best she could. "I mean that we're going on a trip. Think of it as an extended joyride in a van instead of a beetle, only instead of going home after a few hours, we have to try and find a place to sleep."

It was indeed what Sachiko was thinking. Her expression did not contort but her insides did. She prepared a verbal rebuke, which she thought as she prepared it to be a milder, more modern equivalent of a feudal lord demanding the suicide of a vassal for a comment made in ill company.

"And what makes you think that I will have anything to do with—" but she stopped, because in her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of what was near her: a short, pretty, pigtailed girl, with a delighted expression on her face—one that, Sachiko knew, she could not have covered up if all of existence depended on it. She saw Yumi's face, and she realized something: She wanted this.

_Aren't you just fighting this because it's absurd?_

_Of course I am! It's _absurd! _It's beyond absurd, it's positively _stupid! _You can't just disappear for god-knows-how-long without telling anybody, and if you tell anybody, you'll be forbidden to go. Your life is not your own and has not been for as long as _

_Then do something about it._ The thought forced its way into her head with a startling speed and power—and what was more interesting was that it was not in her own voice, but rather in the voice of the girl who was now staring at her so intently; that short, sweet, indefatigable girl. _If it's not yours, take it back. Who cares what they think? Call Suguru and tell him you'll be out for a few days, that you've decided to take a trip to the summer house. Tell the Sawamuras that you'll be there in a few days. Suguru can draw his own conclusions and I'm sure I can…_

_I'm sure I can plan this out._

I can do it. 

_I will._

She stopped, deflated, her shoulders relaxed, (though her expression was not) and, after taking a moment, nodded. To the amazement of everybody—_everybody­_—she even smiled a little.

"What will you need from me?"

Sei was actually taken aback. She recovered quickly, and said, "Get Rei to pop her trunk for me, for starters. I'd like to park my car in place of hers until we get back, so we'll have to do a neat little business with her parents. After that, all I need is for you to promise me that you won't have a bunch of balls of muscle and testosterone out looking for you when you disappear for a few days."

"I can do that."

Sei nodded at her. "Alright. In that case, all I need from you is your sweet little self."

Sachiko frowned. "I would prefer not to be referred to as such in the future, if you believe you can bring yourself to refrain."

Sei only laughed.

Sachiko had a funny, happy feeling that she might be doing that too. She hoped that feeling wouldn't fade; she wished this very much.

* * *

As always, thanks for reading! If you liked it, or if you didn't, drop me a review telling me why! 


	10. 9: Remember the Hill

Author's notes

The Long Silence is over. Thank you all very much for waiting, as always. You guys are great.

The _shinkansen _is the Japanese bullet train.

Kyoto is a city in Japan which is famous for being a place where you can "meet old Japan." It is slightly more rustic than Tokyo, though it is certainly modern within its inner city; I think it's the only place in Japan where there are still a few feudal castles. (Six if I recall). The views there range from fascinating to absolutely fucking breathtaking. It is, of course, southeast of Tokyo. Incidentally, who remembers where Sachiko is going to school?

Wow. I didn't realize how heavy I had laid the innuendo on until just now.

_Napoleon _is a 5-player Japanese card game which is apparently very different from its European counterpart. It is a game of taking tricks, a little like Spades, I believe. Essentially, each round, the dealer is "napoleon." She calls out a card (usually a good trump card) and the bearer of that card secretly becomes her "adjutant," or team. She places a bid for how many tricks she can take, and play commences. The goal is to take the correct number of tricks without going under or taking all the tricks.

A few things went screwy (bold where it shouldn't have been and a funky duplicate line) when I uploaded this. It has been fixed--I apologize for the poor product.

* * *

_It's all right / I'm just the dream from that time that you erased / forgot / something isn't here. _

* * *

Chapter 9

Remember the Hill

* * *

**One**

* * *

_All I need is for you to promise me that you won't have a bunch of balls of muscle and testosterone out looking for you when you disappear for a few days, _she said. _All I need. _That was "all she needed," like "all the dying man needed" was a new set of lungs in the middle of a war zone._  
_

_But you can't really complain, can you? After all, you said it. You said, _I can do that _like it was no big deal. Sure. Just call the head of the Ogasawara Group—daddy, if you would, but you would not— and let him know you'll be taking off for a couple of days with a psychotic driver and a bunch of your_

friends

_classmates from the Yamayurikai, and your _petite soeur. _Where? Oh, we're not sure yet. We thought we'd just sort of…drive, you know, until we ran out of gas and had to draw straws to see who would be the hooker for gas money. No, no worries, I won't take the checkbook. I'll make sure to bring my nicest, shortest skirt, too; I've always been pretty unlucky when it came to drawing lots, but not when it came to being a_

filthy whore

_breadwinner. Pretty good at that, made top grades, didn't I? Isn't that enough? Doesn't that merit me one trip? Just one? I just sort of thought that this once, I could leave and not think about the consequences because I promise my womb will be undamaged and that's what you _really _need off of me, isn't it, is a little fellow in there, well I promise to_

_BAM._

_What is this? The world is shaking around me…rumbling like an engine, only expanded to eclipse the sun, an engine to tear apart the planet underneath me and_

_BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM_

"Damn, these are some lousy roads."

"You shouldn't use such coarse language, Onee-sama."

"Oh, come on. You've heard worse."

"From you."

Muffled laughter. "She kind of has you there, Sei."

"You know, I could have had any number of girls as _petite soeurs. _Can somebody tell me why I picked the disguised smart-ass?"

"It sounds to me like she simply had a very good disguise."

"Are you calling her pretty, Rei?"

"I—"

Cut off: "_Onee-sama!_"

"I wasn't—"

Cut off again: "A very curvy disguise, if you will. A pert, firm, nicely-developed disguise. A very womanly disguise. Maybe even two disguises."

"Sei—"

Cut off a third time. Almost giggling: "_Onee-sama!_"

And then, a voice which was not quite distressed, but getting there: "Come on, Sei! Onee-sama is trying to sleep."

"Hey, why am _I _the only one who gets yelled at? Yoshino is practically pounding on Rei's arm, crying, _onee-sama! Onee-sama!_" A fairly good impression of Yoshino's voice.

"I do not sound like that!" _Thump thump thump._

"You are pounding on my arm, though." Finally able to finish a sentence.

"I—"

"You'll wake _Onee-sama _up!"

Yumi. She sounded anxious, unpleasantly so. That would not do. Not at all. If only something could be done. Something radical, but contained. Something decisive, but not unnecessarily brutal. _You're not planning a military strike. I think father did once. No, that was just a rumor. Corporate business isn't _that _brutal._

A warm, comforting arm slid around her shoulder. The arm was small and a little tense; unsure of how much it belonged where it was, like a cat cautiously creeping its way onto the lap of someone who was mostly asleep, ready to flee if that someone so much as jerked in the wrong direction.

_That's not right. I'm not going to lash out at you if I wake up, Yumi. _

So thinking did Sachiko open her eyes with a sharp intake of breath, and, just like the metaphorical cat, Yumi's arm retreated immediately. She blinked, bleary-eyed, for a moment, lamenting the loss of the warmth, and then looked around, finding more or less exactly what she had found just before she had blinked so heavily about...two hours ago. (Checking the clock on the radio a row ahead of her). Then, they had been more or less in the middle of a dense Tokyo roadfuck, trying desperately to get onto the tollway that would take them more or less anywhere. No longer crowded, they could spread out two or to a row, grouped by _soeurs_: Rei and Yoshino in the back row, Yumi and Sachiko in the middle row, and Sei and Shimako in the front. Somehow, Sei had wormed her way into the driver's seat again, through what trickery, Sachiko knew not.

Now, they were on the open road; there were perhaps three other cars in view, none of which could possibly be driving at legal speeds—Sachiko knew this because she knew that their van was being passed, and Sei was driving. Looking out the window, Sachiko could see a currently empty rice paddy to her left, and a run of _shinkansen _track that extended as far as she could see off to her right.

"Yumi." Sachiko blinked hard, trying to get rid of a strange glare that seemed suddenly to invade her sight from all directions. "Where…" she put her hand to her mouth reflexively and yawned, trying as hard as she could not to bare her tonsils to the world, or even to her palm. "Where are we?"

"I think we're headed southeast on the tollway right now, _Onee-sama,_" Yumi said.

Sachiko frowned. "Southeast?" _We're not in Tokyo anymore; not even on the outskirts. What could possibly be southeast any farther? _"Where are we going?"

"Thought I'd take us down to Kyoto for starters."

_Kyoto? What could there possibly be in Kyoto? _

_Castles?_

_Scenery?_

_Oh—_

Almost reflexively, Sachiko turned to face Yumi, who was sitting comfortably in her own seat, only about half a meter from Sachiko, in spite of the ample space they had on their bench. Yumi did not seem to have reacted to the mention of Kyoto. Did that mean she had forgotten? Sachiko could only hope so.

Sei hadn't, forgotten, though. Simply from the tone of her voice, Sachiko could see this. It made her cringe, very slightly.

Yoshino turned around in her seat and took a quick look at Yumi, who was sitting on her side with her arms pressed a little _too _close to herself, and Sachiko who she noted looked a bit overly distressed, though she could only guess at why. (In reality, she could guess very well at it, but she did not know that at the time.) "Hey, instead of sitting there looking awkward, why don't we do something productive?"

Yumi blinked and relaxed without trying to. "Productive?"

Sachiko frowned, suddenly worried. "You mean…like knitting?" _I don't know how to knit._

At this, both Yoshino and Yumi burst out laughing, though Yumi's was more of a set of confined giggles, whereas Yoshino laughed outright for a moment before Rei clapped a hand over her mouth without actually looking up from whatever it was that she was doing. "Yoshino," she said with a touch of amusement that utterly destroyed the disapproving tone she was going for. Then, to Sachiko, "I'm sorry about that."

"It's _your _fault," Yoshino said when Rei finally removed her hand. "_You're _the one that _is _knitting."

"You'll be grateful for it later." Rei said. "When it gets cold."

"That's not the point! And besides, when is that going to be? Did you not notice the air conditioning in this car?"

Rei shrugged helplessly, and Sachiko thought privately that she looked more and more like a mother every time she saw the two of them—Yoshino and Rei—together.

_A mother, or something else._

Sachiko fought down her blush successfully by reciting that poem that she could not quite get out of her head.

_(All-gone all-gone)_

_S__omething else like you and Yumi?_

_(Cattail fish is all-gone)_

_Something like that has no business making you blush. What are you doing, idiot girl?_

This was much harder than it ought to have been, because as she was doing this, Yumi was inching closer again, a little like a

_(scorned lover trying to)_

cat again. And just like a cat, Sachiko knew that again, if she shifted too quickly, Yumi would retreat almost soundlessly, unnoticeably. She knew that there was more than one way to catch (or skin) a cat, however, and so Sachiko, in a moment of self-indulgence and near superhuman speed, reached out and caught Yumi around the shoulders. "Yumi," she said, intending to say something reassuring so that the girl wouldn't try and pull away. Before she could even begin her sentence, however, Sei shouted from up front with timing that seemed almost precognitive:

"Shall we do something productive?"

Yumi jerked in her seat and her face turned a bright shade of red.

Oddly enough, Sachiko did something very nearly the same. Out of habit, she nearly shouted, (really, her voice only rose a notch or two, but it was a stretch for the girl) "_Rosa Gigantea!" _

Two voices responded from the front seat, nearly at the same time with a simple, "Yes?" One of them was inquisitive. The other was nearly snickering.

"Ignore her," Rei said shortly, not looking up from her knitting. "It's the best way to make her be quiet."

"It's the _only _way," Shimako said from the front.

"You two have absolutely no respect for your _sempai_," Sei said. "I find that in almost unbearably poor taste."

Something funny happened. Sachiko opened her mouth to say, _You two need to be more respectful of your _sempai, _even if she is being fairly lewd, _with a scolding tone. It was almost reflexive, the same as how her leg jumped when the doctor tapped on it just right with a little rubber hammer.

Then she shut her mouth.

_What is going on in this trip? It's like we left all our manners in Tokyo. What does that say about our characters? If we, as graduates and students of Lillian, become raucous as soon as there is nobody around to see us, what does that make us? _

_Fake?_

_My dear, what do you think manners _are?

_They are signs of good character! _This she believed most vehemently. _Good breeding and good character are displayed first and foremost by proper manners!_

_And what about a good life? How do you display to the world that you are capable of enjoying yourself like a normal human being?_

Sachiko found that she had no acceptable answer to that.

Yumi moved under her and her attention left herself. "What is it, Yumi?"

"Oh," Yumi said in a voice which was entirely relaxed. "I'm just shifting, _onee-sama." _And then, a little bit more nervously, "You're very comfortable."

_What kind of a sentence is _that_? Am I a pillow? What would mother think if she heard that? _

_I think that right now, you kind of are. _

As Yumi moved into a more comfortable position just over Sachiko's breast, Sachiko felt that denying entirely would be useless, and hypocritical of her since she was essentially the one who had put Yumi there. _Besides…admit it. It's comfortable. The gentle pressure over your heart, the small warmth that seems to seep into your breast; it's nice. _

Sachiko would admit to no such thing, of course. Still, it was a nice thought.

_How do you display to the world…_

Very nice.

_That you enjoy yourself? _

_I enjoy myself. _

_When?_

_Now._

Another compelling argument.

Compelling indeed.

* * *

**Two**

* * *

Apparently, "something productive" was playing cards. Sachiko didn't particularly mind this; she rather enjoyed it, in fact. Rei had taken a break from her knitting to sit in on the game, and Shimako had, at Yoshino's behest, slid back to take a place in the game as well. Sachiko had asked Sei if she was all right being left out—an apology of sorts, probably, for her earlier scolding tone—but Sei only laughed and told Sachiko to enjoy herself with "the girls." Sachiko hadn't the faintest idea what that meant. Sachiko then proceeded to point out to Sei that swapping seats so frequently was very dangerous, especially considering the driver, and Sei told Sachiko very politely to kindly please piss off and get back in her seat. She said it with a laugh, and oddly enough, Sachiko laughed too. 

_How do you show the world?_

When they sat back down, the game became 5-player Napoleon. It was an odd sort of free-for-all, which was not really a free-for-all at all, since each round, the dealer formed a secret "alliance" that she did not know until the card which signified the alliance was played. Yumi was not particularly useful when she was made the dealer's "adjutant," since as soon as the card was called, her face lit up, revealing itself to be bearing a neon sign which read, _I'm this round's adjutant! Careful of letting me take anything!_

Sachiko, however, more than made up for that. Her intuition was sharp, but more than that, she was very good at guessing how many tricks she could take; mostly she did this by estimating conservatively, but she often was able to entice her opponents into giving up their trumps early.

_If only the same could be said about your life._

_What _trumps, _exactly?_

_Your own._

_That makes no sense._

And yet, in a strange sort of way, it did. And when she admitted that to herself, something funny happened to her: She started to laugh a little bit more.

_How indeed._

* * *

**Three**

* * *

Sachiko won, and by a long margin. Yoshino accused her of playing "for keeps," whatever that meant, and Shimako said quietly, "I don't think I've ever been beaten quite that badly." Yoshino told her that she should be grateful for small favors. After that, Shimako retreated to the front seat _(dangerously, _Sachiko thought) and Yumi settled back on Sachiko's stomach and fell almost immediately asleep—she must have been more exhausted than Sachiko had thought. 

_Of course she was. You were a tremendous burden on her today. You are always a_

_Shut up._

_You are always. Always._

_Shut. Up._

Sachiko found that she was increasingly gaining control over some of these thoughts which seemed to swell and pop in her head without warning, destroying her self-assuredness, and that they influenced her less as a result. She put her hand on Yumi's head and let her breath out slowly.

_Her hair is so soft. It's nice._

_Not like_

_Not thinking about that._

_Them._

_Not thinking about that. _

Sachiko shook her head sharply, violently. She thought nobody noticed, but in reality, not one of them _didn't notice_. What she didn't see could have filled a book:

Yoshino nudged Rei, who glanced briefly over to indicate she had noticed too. Underneath the blanket Yoshino had found (with the air conditioning that Sei insisted on pumping, it was actually fairly cool in the car—cool enough for a blanket, anyway) Rei squeezed her cousin's hand reassuringly. _Don't worry about it. It's nothing; she's more or less under control, and if she's not, we can deal with it. _

Yoshino squeezed the hand back, and thought, _It's not Sachiko I'm worried about. It's the girl who passed out in_ _her lap the second after she lost at Napoleon. Yesterday, Yumi was energetic and practically frothing at the mouth, she was so excited to see her _onee-sama. _She got a good night's sleep, and had a good breakfast this morning, and it's been less than ten hours since she woke up, but she looks like she hasn't slept for a week. This is fucking killing her; maybe faster than it's killing Sachiko._

That wasn't entirely fair, and Yoshino knew it, but she didn't care. She squeezed Rei's hand again, looking at Sachiko, and Rei shook her head sharply._ Don't you dare. You know it's nothing like that._

_It's not fair, _Yoshino thought.

_Neither are you._

_Neither is anything. Get used to it, sister._

In the front seat, Sei glanced in the mirror just in time to see Sachiko's sharp, violent shake, as though she was trying to wrench her head off in a single go. Shimako, by the same chance, noticed it in the same way. They glanced at each other, and Shimako mouthed, _"I'm worried about the both of them back there. Do you think stopping somewhere for the evening would be a good idea? I think that if we give them a good chance to rest, it would do them a world of good; giving them some time alone wouldn't be a bad idea either; I think the two of them need some time to work things out in private."_

With a shit-eating grin, Sei mouthed back, _"I can't read lips."_

Shimako pursed her lips and Sei winked at her, and Shimako knew that Sei had understood. As they rounded a bend, a sign came into view: _Lodging: 13 KM. _

_Sounds good to me, _Shimako thought.

Sei thought so too, but she said it a different way.

* * *

**Four

* * *

**

Yumi was awakened as Sei raised her voice, not turning around but not for lack of trying—Shimako was keeping close watch over her to make sure she kept a close watch on the road. "Alright, everybody. We've been driving for something like 3 hours now, and we're about an hour and a half from Kyoto. I think we've all gotten to know each other a little better now, so let's be honest." _The sound of attention being gathered is so sweet. _"Whose bladder is full?"

Silence filled the car in much the same way molten lead might.

"Come on, admit it, show of hands." Sei would not be cowed so easily.

Grudgingly, slowly at first, and then quickly towards the end (as though to avoid being recognized in a small group of close friends) hands went up—in the end, not a single person had not admitted to at least _owning _a bladder—Sachiko included, which verily shocked her.

_As far as your guests and friends are concerned, you have no bladder, no stomach, and no sweat glands. You will in no way trouble your guests nor your hosts for anything so trivial. _

Looking back on it, Sachiko had received that lesson when she was quite young, and it had actually been a trick to keep herself from giggling—mostly, the thought of the hard, unkind slap she would receive if she so much as breathed hard during something that a normal child might perceive as funny kept her in line.

_I guess I have a bladder, huh._

_Huh._

"There's a hotel coming up in about five minutes. I vote we stay there the night, and get a fresh start tomorrow. Who else is in?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Sei," Rei said, her voice leaving no room for dissention. Not that there was any.

_Staying at a hotel. _

_What a strange thing—I've never even done it once. Not with friends nor with family. Isn't it supposed to be a fun thing to do? Certainly that disqualifies family, then, but what about friends?_

Friends.

_How do you show the world you can enjoy yourself like a normal person?_

Sachiko had the feeling she might find out soon enough.

* * *

As always, thanks for reading! 


	11. 10: Highway Chance

Author's Notes

Those familiar with Japan's topography will forgive the fact that I have altered it slightly to better fit my story. The error is not too glaring, I think. What I have not changed is this: Suwa Lake is a lake in Nagano prefecture, which old lore says the Gods used to cross every year in winter.

"Good day" should be taken as the nearest translation to _Gokigenyou_. (At least in spirit. Taken literally, it's got quite a strange translation, which, of course, even the Japanese don't consider.)

Fifteen thousand yen is approximately one hundred and fifty U.S. dollars.

With this chapter, I officially break my White Reflection / It's So Cowardly fanon. No disappointments there. It just means I can actually end this without saying, "And then, 10 years later, Yumi and Sachiko have sex. The end."

* * *

_At this rate, it can't end._

_I probably don't want it to end._

* * *

Chapter 10  
Highway Chance

* * *

**One**

* * *

_Lodging, 13 KM _was a lot longer than Sachiko expected it to be. Ordinarily, she would have chastised herself for being impatient—after all, _things will happen to you when the people who decide say they will—_but the situation had changed significantly. After all, _the people who decide _were still back in Tokyo. And unlike in Tokyo, out here, it seemed she had a bladder, and a full one at that. 

The car emerged from a solid, two-sided wall of forest and what it emerged into did not help Sachiko, either, for as soon as the lovely view of brown and green vanished, she saw pure water, and lots of it. Those in the car who were not asleep woke up those who were, and the general consensus was of a sort of awe which words could express, at best only awkwardly, though Sachiko felt that she might want to try in spite of this.

This was no surprise, either. Sunset was just starting to extend its pink claws over the horizon, and so every inch of water seemed to be veritably lit afire, blazing with a kind of cool power that made Sachiko feel very much as though one of the gods must have fallen into this lake as it tried to cross, and so now blazed much like the sun in its rage and frustration.

"What lake is that?" Shimako asked quietly, her breath not quite caught in her throat. Sachiko already knew, and she felt the first twinge of annoyance creep up her throat.

"Lake Suwa," Sachiko said, feeling as breathless as Shimako sounded. "Nagano Prefecture. Sei, would you like to tell us why we're in Nagano?"

Sei only laughed. "I never said we were going _straight _to Kyoto, did I?" She did not ask Sachiko, _is that a problem, _and so Sachiko could not say anything in reply, and that was for the best.

Yumi squeezed Sachiko's hand. "It's beautiful," she said gently, as though her voice were being held down simply by the raw power of this lake-god. "I think this will be a wonderful place to spend the night."

Sachiko frowned, not allowing herself to be taken in by such a blatant, inconvenient truth. Something was niggling at the back of her head, making her irritable, and she thought it probably had nothing to do with her bladder.

Yumi squeezed her hand again. "Don't worry," she said with a little grin that Sachiko couldn't see. "It's not far enough out of our way to make anything go awry back home." _Any more awry than it already has._

Yumi saying this was strange to Sachiko: It was as though as she spoke, the little niggle in the back of her head began to subtitle her words.

And as soon as it spelled itself out in her head, it vanished. It was absurd, after all. Wasn't it?

_Of course it is. You're already _being bad. _What does it matter if you take a few extra hours at it, or veer off the straight path? Are they going to scold you twice for wasting gas? _

_Are they going to scold me at all?_

Sachiko gave that sharp little shake of her head again, and Yumi's eyes immediately became worried, though, again, Sachiko did not see it, still staring out the window at the lake as they turned off onto a road which probably curved all the way around it. _I have to not think about that. What's the point of this if I do? What's the point of going out and doing something so abstract as just _enjoying _myself if I do nothing but worry about it the whole time?_

From the voice of her mother: _That would be something I would expect to hear from a reckless fifteen year old girl, wearing a short skirt and showing her bare neck and riding in a flashy car with an eighteen year old boy who wants nothing more than to get into that skirt and what's underneath. Is that you, Sachiko Ogasawara?_

Sachiko found she had no response to that. A blind denial would get her nowhere.

_You're slipping again._

She was.

Often, when Sachiko felt herself slipping, it was Yumi who managed to get hold of her. Yumi, who seemed so damn near psychic it was frightening at times. This time, it was Sei Satou, of all people.

"So," she said, without preamble, "who thinks they can fit into a swimsuit that's measured to fit either myself or Yoshino without falling out just as fast?"

"Eh?" Yumi said. "Wait, what?"

"Hey," Sei said. "There's a lake, and the way it looks, _Lodging, 13 KM _is right on it. Are we going to stay overnight at a hotel and _not _go swimming in the lake right next to it? Come on, no chlorine for once!"

"I don't think that that is what's worrying Yumi," Shimako said, sounding plainly nervous herself, something Sachiko was unused to from her. "The trouble is what you said about fitting into…a bathing suit? Somebody else's?"

"I think," Rei said from the middle seat, "that you and I, Shimako, will be the only ones to be troubled. Yumi will probably fit soundly into whatever Yoshino has, and I'm sure Sachiko and Sei are roughly the same size."

"Care to enlighten me, Sachiko?" Sei shouted from the front. "What're your measurements?"

"Wh—" Sachiko sputtered. Sachiko never sputtered. Sachiko had also never been openly asked what her three sizes were. Part of living in an upscale community was that the horny, stupid boys of her circle simply paid butlers off to find such things for them. So while Sachiko knew that such information might not be entirely private, to be asked in the open like this, just…

Yumi was scratching something on a spare scrap of paper she had likely found under the seat with an old pen that looked like it needed to be tossed. Sachiko leaned in to look and Yumi turned her body to block Sachiko's vision.

"Yumi, what are you doing?" Sachiko said, her voice wary.

"Please wait a moment, _Onee-sama,_" Yumi said. When she finished whatever she was doing, she folded the piece of paper in half and handed it up to Yoshino, who flipped it open immediately after receiving it and gave a long, slow whistle, the universal note which meant something only mildly less vulgar than _hot damn_.

"Yoshino!" Yumi groaned. "You're supposed to _pass _it! Pass!"

"I am," Yoshino said. "But can you blame me for looking? After all…" she whistled again, and then passed the paper up to Shimako, who watched it with interest as it approached. When it arrived in her hands, however, she looked at it uncomfortably for a second, her face working as she decided if she actually wanted to see what was inside. After a few seconds, though, curiosity got the better of her and she glanced at the quick scrawl, frowned, and then smiled.

"Yes," Shimako said, turning around in her seat to face Yumi. "I think that's about right."

"What are you two on about?" Quick as a pickpocket, Sei snatched the scrap from Shimako, who went a dim shade of red almost as soon as she lost it. Sei took a half-second to read it, and then gave a whistle herself. "Those _are _pretty nice. Well done, Sachiko. We'll be able to fit you."

"_Onee-sama,_" Shimako said mildly, recovering quickly, "they are almost exactly the same as yours. I don't believe that this makes something like _well-done _entirely appropriate"

"My what?" Sachiko said, and then looked at Yumi, who took the opportunity to go red as a beet. "Yumi?"

Yumi, her hands pressed between her legs hard enough that it seemed that she was trying to leave her mark on the seat, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like something Sachiko did _not _want to hear Yumi saying.

Most _definitely _not.

"I'm sorry," Sachiko said, a bit shaken. "I don't believe I understood you."

_"_..._sizes…"_

Sachiko looked very closely at Yumi, trying to decide if she was joking; really, she was just trying to convince herself that she was, though, since she knew that Yumi wasn't given to those kinds of jokes like Sei was.

_How did she find that out, then? She certainly never asked me directly. Did _she _pay off a butler?_

Those things always made Sachiko irate when the boys did them.

Strangely, though, Sachiko found that if she superimposed Yumi's face on that of _the boys,_ instead of making her annoyed, it made her laugh.

Made her _want _to laugh.

No.

It made her laugh. She covered her mouth with one hand and laughed into it, and soon enough, Yumi was laughing, too.

Sei turned the van off into a gravelly parking lot, which was in front of a fairly large, Japanese-style building. Attached was a small, western-looking cube-shaped building labeled, _gift shop, _and Sei said, "I bet we can all buy swimming suits there. Too bad, though; I was looking forward to seeing Sachiko in one of mine."

"_Onee-sama,_" Shimako said quietly, "I think that that would be considered _perverted _in most polite circles" Rei snorted.

"What?" Sei mumbled as she stopped the van and they all filed out. (Neatly, of course.) "It's not like I was going to sniff it afterwards."

"I would believe that," Shimako said as she walked up next to Sei, a small smile on her face, "only when I found it in the wash."

Sei stopped, looked at Shimako completely agape for a second, and Sachiko wondered at just how much the latter had come out of her shell in this short time that they'd all been around each other.

_She seemed like such an idyllic lady from across the Yamayurikai table. How was I to know that she had this kind of side to her?_

_You speak about it like it's a bad thing. Somebody who is a Lady all of the time has no depth to them. Manners are only one face of a person. _

Sachiko saw the wisdom in this, but she couldn't accept it so easily.

_How can I, when all my life, I have been told that without manners a Lady is nothing but a bother?_

_Does Shimako look like a bother to Sei?_

Sei wound up chasing Shimako into the store. It wasn't very lady-like at all.

* * *

**Two**

* * *

As it turned out, the only sorts of swimsuits the little gift shop had available were the sort that Sei would have liked to see Sachiko in. Sachiko had been less than five seconds away from walking away from the whole mess, utterly unwilling to expose that much of her body to anybody, even a solitary cluster of close friends, when Yumi had approached her, touched her hand, and said, "If you're worried about wasting the money, I can pay for it. I don't mind buying another." 

This, of course, had been so ridiculous that it had taken Sachiko a moment to comprehend that this was not what Yumi had meant at all. In fact, the only people in the store who had _not _comprehended this were the two behind the counter, who looked halfway past baffled.

Yumi _is buying one? _

_I had thought that…_

Yumi was smiling at her brightly. "We can match," she said with a grin. If Sei had a comment about Sachiko's figure, she held it to herself, pretending to browse around for bottles of suntan lotion that she had no need for. The others did the same, apparently all on the same wavelength for once.

_What the hell kind of grande soeur am I if I have to be coddled like this into the simplest of tasks by my petite soeur? It's not as though I'm going to strip in front of a crowd.  
(fucking slut that is exactly)  
and Yumi will be embarrassed beyond belief if she's by herself._  
("_You can't do it. Who wants to look at that? You can't do it. Even if you _could _bring yourself to bear yourself in front of all these people, they couldn't bring themselves to look at—")_

Sachiko shook her head sharply at the memory.

"No," she said quietly, her eyes downcast. "I'll pay."  
_Who the fuck wants to see that?  
Who?_

Yumi was smiling up at Sachiko. The smile said something more than Sachiko had expected it to.  
_Who?_  
She didn't know what it was, and what was worse, she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

She bought the swimming suit anyway.

* * *

**Three**

* * *

The proprietor of the hotel was a woman in her mid fifties by looking at her and her early thirties by speaking to her. She greeted them with a natural "Good day," and gave a petite bow, which the girls reciprocated out of sheer familiar habit. Sachiko thought it a little unusual, but said nothing of it—there were, after all, polite women outside of the Lillian School for Girls, no matter what opinion she held privately. 

Even if she _had _smiled at them as they stopped in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary just inside of the hotel's lobby to say a short prayer. If Sachiko had seen more of the world, she might have thought it a testament to her upbringing that she found nothing conspicuous or strange about that statue's placement in such a public place.

"Good day," Sei said, taking charge as she seemed oft to do as of late. "If I asked you if you had three rooms right next to each other, what would you tell me?" This earned her a disapproving look from the lady behind the counter, who seemed to be slowly thinking of what to say when another woman, only a couple years younger than the first by her looks, walked out of a door behind the counter that was so well-concealed that it took everybody by surprise.

"I would say," this new woman said with a bright smile, "That our rooms sleep two and cost fifteen thousand yen a night. And I would also, as a courtesy, warn you that it is likely to rain in the next few hours, and that there is a hotel down the road which costs half of that."

"But has no statue in the lobby," the first woman added. "I saw that you stopped there. Are you all Catholic?"

"And here I had thought that you wanted _me _to be on my best behavior," the second woman said. "That's hardly a polite question, is it?"

"I simply thought—"

Sachiko stepped forward, smiling inwardly and straight-faced outwardly at what seemed very obviously to her a case of a sibling squabble. "We are," she said diplomatically, earning her the immediate attention of both of the women. "We attend a Catholic school for girls in Tokyo, and your statue caught our eye immediately by how beautifully crafted it was."

"See?" The second woman nudged the first in the side. "I told you it was a good investment."

The first woman ignored her, giving a smile which Sachiko was certain was forced, but only because she had seen it in the mirror a thousand times. She put her own on and said, "In any event," she winced, wondering at how easily she had misstepped—_never dismiss what somebody else has said so easily—_"we would love to stay here for the night; this hotel is lovely."

"Wait till you see the rooms to say that," the second woman said, and this time the first woman nudged the second in the side with a frown. The second woman acted indignant. "Hey now, I'm kidding. These lovely ladies know that, don't you?"

"Of course," Sachiko said with her mirror-smile, and then began sifting through her neatly-organized purse for her suddenly disorderly wallet. For just a moment, she caught the eye of the first woman, and something funny happened, so fast that it took Sachiko until they got to their rooms to understand it fully:

The other woman's smile became real. And she nodded, just the tiniest bit.

After they paid, the women introduced themselves as Satoi Tanaka and Kiyomi Yoshida; Satoi was the more serious of the two, and the older.

The rooms were nicer than they had expected. There were bibles, too.

Sachiko never found time to glance inside of them, though.

* * *

**Four**

* * *

It did indeed begin raining, and much sooner than Kiyomi Yoshida had predicted. The hotel had three floors (they were on the third) and while the hallways were painted a beautiful, lavish white kept utterly spotless, they also had no windows, so that when they all arrived at their respective rooms—three doubles, all next to each other—they were taken utterly by surprise as they looked out their windows, which covered nearly the entirety of the walls which faced the lake, and saw nothing but a fuzzy, grey image of the beach. 

While all of them were surprised, none were alarmed, but all of them felt a strange sense of sadness—they had all been looking forward to swimming. Sei expressed a special sense of regret, citing that she had been looking forward to seeing certain parts of Sachiko emphasized which Sachiko did not think she would be able to name in polite company.

Sachiko, however, felt this odd sense of loss as well. Certainly she had not been looking _forward _to seeing  
_(Yumi)_  
the girls in their bathing suits—that sort of thing was  
_(wrong)  
(really?)_

not something that she had ever really thought about—but she had been looking forward to _something, _and she felt now a vague sense of disappointment which, try as she might, she couldn't place.

The voice which came from her side was quiet, and, though Sachiko could not have proven it, sounded a little bitter.

"Damn."

Sachiko looked over at Yumi, a little surprised, though not upset as she might have been had they been in public  
_(you are always in public slap her)  
(slap her)  
You may go straight to Hell if you think I'll do that._

and said, "Were you looking forward to swimming?"

Yumi nodded and looked up at Sachiko, and a second later, there was a small grin on her face. "I think I'll go anyway, if you don't mind, _Onee-sama._"

Sachiko blinked, uncomprehending. "What?"

"That's a great idea!" Sei said from behind them. "Heck, we don't even need to swim. We can just stand out there and get soaked if the lake's too chilly."

"And then you can catch a cold," Rei said disapprovingly, looking down at Yoshino, whose eyes were already alight with the idea.

"Whassamatter," Sei grinned at Rei, "Afraid you'll get a couple too many points across?" Her eyes traveled downwards for only the briefest instant, just so.

Rei went bright red. Yoshino giggled. Shimako giggled as well, an act which ruined utterly her attempt to look disapproving.

_How am I even allowed in such a group? _Sachiko wondered. _These girls…they're all…_

_Normal._

_Yes, that's it. _

_Normal. Where does that leave me?  
(slap her)  
(slap them all they are all rude)_  
fuck_ you  
Easily upset? Erratic? Irrational?_

"I'm going to change," Yumi said. "_Onee-sama_, will you come swimming with us?"

"You'll catch a cold. How can you even think of doing such a thing?" Sachiko almost said.

Instead, she caught herself. It was a mark of progress.

She looked at Rei, probably the one who was nearest to her, if not closest. Rei only shrugged

She looked at Sei, who winked at her and gave her a thumbs up which meant many things that Sachiko did not entirely understand, and was not certain she _wanted _to understand.

She looked down at Yumi, who was smiling up at her with something in her eyes that Sachiko had never seen before. She didn't see Sei glance down at Yumi and give a blink of something which was not quite surprise, Sei who knew exactly what that _something _was. Sei who seemed to know what_ everything _was.

And then Sachiko nodded the most important nod of her life.

Soon after that, everything they had done insofar, every silly little rebellion, every little discomfort Sachiko had put up with, every uncertain thought she had had, seemed to pale in Sachiko's memory.

* * *

**Five**

* * *

It happened while Yumi and Sachiko were changing in the hotel room, neither of them bothering to go into the bathroom. It happened so fast that it took Sachiko longer than the incident itself to figure out what the hell was going on. 

Yumi changed more slowly than Sachiko did, which might have been surprising to somebody who didn't know how quickly Sachiko had had to change at  
_(o-sake)  
(have some more)  
(oh dear ive spilled it down your dress let me clean that up)_

the social functions hosted by her family. She was fast enough, in fact, that she hadn't had time to think about how slowly some other girls changed clothes. She turned around when she finished, and a word was about halfway out of her mouth when she saw Yumi naked for the first time. The word might have sounded a little like "Wuh."

Yumi did not see Sachiko see her naked. Her back was turned (at Sachiko's unspoken behest) and so Sachiko saw only the barest outline of the girl's small breasts. Yumi's skin was very pale and delicate, and Sachiko thought briefly that she looked a little like a doll.

A doll with a very

_Beautiful  
(you make me sick)_  
back, her muscles and shoulder blades moving fluidly as the girl stepped into her swimming suit.  
_The swimming suit that covers her  
(fucking sick)  
very small…shapely? Is that the word?  
(god is watching you filthy)  
post (disgusting) erior. _

She turned around again quickly.

What surprised her, and scared her a little, was that she had to fight the urge to glance back again.

All at once, Sachiko Ogasawara felt sick to her stomach, confused, and afraid to the point that she began to shake, though she calmed herself almost immediately thorough a force of will which was almost routine at this point. She said nothing more to Yumi, whose face brightened visibly when she turned around and saw Sachiko in her bathing suit, which she said suited her very well, especially for a purchase made on the spot. (Saying nothing of the extortion involved.)

Sachiko found she had trouble responding to that with anything but a grin around the enormous lump that seemed to have nested into her throat.

Yumi and Sachiko waited in the hallway, the first to finish. Rei and Yoshino came second, and Shimako and Sei last. Sachiko noticed that Shimako was walking with a slightly faster gait than was usual, especially for that girl, and that she looked a little red around her neck—a less naïve person than Sachiko might not have wondered where on earth the girl had gotten a sunburn. She might have thought something more worldly had she seen the mildly shaken look on Sei's face.

Rei fell into line with Sachiko as they entered the lobby, earning themselves looks from owners and travelers alike. Sei only waved, but Shimako, still determined to walk a little ahead for some incomprehensible reason, only sunburned further.

"What's going on?" Rei asked quietly as she pulled Sachiko to the back of the group.

"What do you mean?" Sachiko was honestly taken off guard, having been distracted by the interaction, or lack thereof, between Sei and Shimako.

Rei frowned. "I think you and I ought to have a talk," she said, and then she said something which delivered a hit like a semi truck to Sachiko's gut: "Did you even notice that you have looked at Yumi's backside no less than four times since we got on the elevator?"


	12. 11: God Makes the Rain

Author's Notes:

Lightning chapter! Byah!

This chapter gets a little religious. It is, after all, about a Catholic school. I take a few stances that I think that the characters in Marimite, given the heavy yuri subtext of the whole thing and the seeming lack of fundamentalism in the series as a whole, wouldn't have trouble taking. **If you object, please do not leave this in a review. Send me an email and we'll talk. **I don't want my review box turning into a soapbox.

On that note, I must sincerely apologize to everybody, especially Teresa Kaiju, for the content of Detsuahxe's review. Let's all ease up and move on, hey? Those of you who feel like you have something more to say, say it in a PM please.

In other news, you might notice a disproportionate amount of references to alcohol in this chapter. Just so's we're clear, this fic takes place the summer after Sachiko graduates. Sei is 20, but the rest of them are underage. However, alcohol is very easy to obtain in Japan, being available from simple street vending machines, which is why the brief bit about legality on Sachiko's part is supposed to be silly.

* * *

_I should know better by now._

* * *

Chapter 11  
God Makes the Rain

As Rei led her towards the small café just off of the main lobby with a loud, honest promise to hurry back, Sachiko thought numbly that usually when two people _ought to have a talk, _it was usually conducted discreetly. She couldn't come up with any concrete reasoning for this, of course; in fact, if prompted, she might have found that she could not come up with much of anything just then.

Rei sat her down at a small table and told her to stay put. Sachiko, her mind still in the midst of such a haze that those who did not know her might have called her melodramatic, needed no telling. Rei left, and returned about two minutes later with a pair of steaming cups. She put one down in front of Sachiko, who looked down and found not tea, as she had expected, but coffee. Sachiko did not ordinarily drink coffee. It stained one's teeth, and it was bitter. She drank tea. All ladies drank tea.  
_(all ladies don't look at their _petite soeur's)  
This coffee was black, too. No cream, no sugar. It would be bitter. She would probably pull a face. A most unladylike  
_(glance)  
(posterior)_  
face.

"So," Rei said as she sat down across from Sachiko.

Sachiko only looked back at her.  
_(The least you can do is get ahold of yourself you stupid girl)  
(get yourself under control or you will embarrass me)  
(us)  
(ALL OF US GET YOURSELF__ UNDER CONTROL)_

Sachiko shook her head sharply. It was a move Rei knew well, and in an instant her face became full of concern.

_More _concern.

"I'm sorry," Sachiko said. "I seem to have drifted into a daze for a moment. I apologize for my rudeness."

Rei frowned. Rei didn't like Sachiko's tone one bit.

_She's being polite. To me. In what is, essentially, private. _She looked around, and indeed, the only person even in earshot was the barista from whom she had gotten her coffee, a short, solid woman who was presently paging through a magazine disinterestedly.

_This isn't right. Not at all._

"Sachiko," Rei said. "Stop."

"Stop?" Sachiko looked genuinely confused. "Have I done something to offend you?"

_Damn it to Hell._

Yumi might have understood immediately.

It took Rei, who had since her entrance into the Yamayurikai been fairly close with Sachiko, a good half minute, and this was not because Rei did not know Sachiko well.

_Damn it to Hell, _in her mind, turned into something far more vulgar. It was possible that Sachiko genuinely was not following her, but it was more likely—and frustrating—that she was simply doing as she had always been taught.

The truth, Rei thought, was that Sachiko was simply an extraordinarily good actress, because she didn't truly believe herself to be acting at all. Some small, untraceable part of Sachiko Ogasawara believed that she was, in fact, under close watch by some obscure Forces of Those Wealthier than She at all times, and that any slight mistake might embarrass and possibly ruin the family entirely. That was the crux of the matter as Rei knew it, after long, hard thought over the course of many nights about midway through her first year. Some people might have thought it unbelievably selfish of Sachiko to require (even unaware) such deep, concentrated thought and effort in order to keep her stable and human sometimes.

Rei would have laughed at that accusation. Rei would have said that anybody who thought that didn't understand what friendship was, not even a little.

She would have been right, too.

Nobody could do anything about the way Sachiko was, though. Getting the girl to lighten up was nearly impossible.

_Except for Yumi._

_Yeah. Except for Yumi._

Something that Yumi couldn't often bring herself to do, though, was play the game she needed to play by simply stepping around Sachiko and her manners.

That was something Rei was very good at. She knew Sei was talented in this area as well, but her methods were too crass for Rei to even attempt to imitate. It worked, but there were limits to how far outside of her boundaries Rei wanted to go unless absolutely necessary.

"No," Rei said. "Not at all. So then, let's talk."

"Yes," Sachiko said pleasantly. "Was there something you needed to speak to me about?"

Rei found herself a little frustrated at this; polite, she could take patiently. Seeming memory loss, not so much.

And so, she found herself thinking of Sei, of all people.

"Yeah," Rei said. "I need to talk to you about how you've been staring at Yumi's" _ass_—_no, you'll lose her _"butt for the past ten minutes."

Sachiko blinked again and froze up.

Rei sighed and put her hand over Sachiko's, moved it to the cup of coffee. "Drink it," she said. "It'll help."

"I'm terribly sorry," Sachiko said nearly automatically. "I don't do well with coffee. My stomach sometimes becomes upset when I—"

"Drink," Rei said more firmly. She suddenly wished she had something stronger to lace it with, but according to Sei, all of the good booze was in the trunk. (She had spoken very briefly with an uncharacteristically distracted Sei about this beforehand, and that was the only thing she had gotten from it. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.) "Your teeth will be fine. You've eaten properly today, so your stomach will be, too."

Sachiko blinked again. Slowly, she touched the cup, and then her fingers curled around it almost reflexively. A moment later she brought it to her lips and sipped, recoiled almost immediately.

"Hot?" Rei asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry." Sachiko said. For a second, she felt as though she might simply shriek. Instead, she looked down. "Oh dear. I seem to have…"

"Spilled. You got coffee on your brand new swimsuit." She finished Sachiko's sentence so that Sachiko wouldn't. "You'll have to go out into the rain and clean yourself up, but not before we talk."

"About Yumi's…" Sachiko trailed off. The shock seemed to have done her good, and Rei was glad.

Rei looked at her with a patient, kind smile, and Sachiko couldn't help but smile back.

A second later, it came spilling out of her mouth. It was a surprisingly brief tale, told with an objectivity which pervaded it from her description of how fast she normally changed right down to how she felt that little hit she felt in her gut when she saw the smooth line of Yumi's backside. The objectivity made it almost frightening, but Rei understood. Sachiko normally had two reactions to things which genuinely frightened her: She avoided them, or she took the hit front-on. When they had gone to Hanadera to participate in the festival, she had done the latter, at Yumi's behest, and she had treated it as objectively as she could, though it had not ended that way. At Yumi's behest, she did a lot of things. She dropped her objectivity at Yumi's behest, without Yumi even asking for it.

"I don't understand," Sachiko said quietly. "I don't understand it at all. I mean…" She shook her head and tried another sip of coffee. She didn't spill any this time, though this certainly did not mean that it was not hot enough to burn her; it just meant that she was more under her own control, and less under the control of whatever she usually kept herself subdued with.

"You felt all this," Rei said, "and you fought off the urge to look back. Why?"

"Because it's wrong."

"What's wrong?"

Sachiko stared at Rei openly, mouth agape. "_What_'s wrong? _That! _It's…" Rei would later add _at the risk of sounding like a walking cliché _to her memory of that incident, "a sin."

Rei said, "It's not a sin to love your _petite soeur. _That's the goal of the whole system, to foster a bond so strong that it defies all convention."

"_Nothing _should defy convention," Sachiko said so quickly that she probably hadn't even thought about it. Rei ignored it and pressed on.

"Listen," she said. "You and Yumi are…very close. Yumi is probably the only person in this universe short of God himself who can get past your defenses when you've got them up strong. I know that and I accept it, and I'm not ashamed by it. For you to feel a powerful love for that one person is…so normal that it's strange to _me _that you haven't noticed it until now."

"But that sort of love shouldn't have anything to do with—"

Rei smiled the genuine smile of a friend who feels like it's maybe all she can do, and put her hand back on Sachiko's. "Nobody wise ever put the words _love _and _should _in the same sentence, Sachiko. Love, no matter what the hard-liners say, is never a sin."

"Never isn't a good word either," Sachiko said.

"No, you're right. It's not. But…I don't think that love is a sin. Acting on love can be sinful in the same way that acting on hate can be sinful."

Sachiko felt something hit her hard. "So that means that I shouldn't…"

"You said that, not me," Rei said. "I think you should love who you want without fear of sin, because I think sin is fundamentally hurtful to somebody, and that doesn't seem to me to be what you're…" She trailed off. "Do you understand what I mean?"

Sachiko nodded slowly. "I think I do. I don't know if I agree, though."

"That's because you were raised by strict parents." Rei smiled at her. "And you didn't live next door to Yoshino. It doesn't matter, though. You weren't looking for a valid biblical justification for wanting to stare at Yumi anyway, were you?"

Sachiko slowly shook her head, and silently wondered at how mature Rei seemed at that moment.

"I suppose I'm just…" Sachiko said, not sure what she was precisely.

"I know you are," Rei said with a smile. "It's confusing, you know? And it's harder since you are...who you are."

_She almost said, _since I'm engaged to Suguru.

"I guess all I can really tell you to do is to take your time. There's no other way you can think straight about these kinds of things."

Sachiko thought, _She talks about these things as if from experience, _and wondered for the first time with a little jilt how similarly Sei Satou would reply if Sachiko were to confide in her about Yumi's posterior.

"Thank you," Sachiko said with a genuine smile.

"Hey," Rei said. "Thank _you_. I feel myself as though I understand things better now."

Sachiko could not help but wonder what exactly she understood better.

Maybe if she would have known, things would have been easier for her.

Probably it was best, then, that she didn't.

* * *

**Two**

* * *

"What do you think was wrong with Sachiko?" Yoshino asked Yumi as they clustered around the exit, all holding towels and staring at the rain outside, gathering their nerve and trying to find a nonalcoholic solution to their increasingly problematic common sense. "I didn't notice anything, but _Onee-sama _seemed pretty concerned."

"She did?" Yumi asked, genuinely surprised. To her, Rei had seemed roughly the same as she always had.

"Yeah. You probably couldn't see it, since she doesn't mother you around all the time, but it's been a while since I've seen Rei that concerned about somebody. Probably not since my operation, you know?"

"Really…" Yumi frowned. _Was something that I couldn't see really wrong with _Onee-sama_? How did I miss it that easily?_

_Probably because you were too caught up in thinking about how nice your _Onee-sama _looks in that swimsuit you picked out for her._

Yumi's neck flushed red at this and she shook her head furiously.

Yohsino laughed delightedly. "You look exactly like Shimako!" she whispered, and at this, Yumi only flushed redder.

"Speaking of Shimako, though," Yumi said quickly, trying to get the subject off of swimsuits, Sachiko, or any combination of the two.

Yoshino was immediately serious again. "Mm. She didn't even hear me. I think she's off in her own world right now."

"She's never like that, though."

They glanced over at the short, beautiful girl and found her, as Yoshino said, standing—nearly leaning; something unheard of for somebody as upright and proper as Shimako Toudo—staring at the mysterious space halfway between eye level and the floor, the realm which only those utterly lost in thought ever seemed to be able to see clearly. She raised a single petite finger and touched her lower lip, held it there for a moment, and then lowered it, not moving her eyes.

A hand on both of their shoulders made them jump and very nearly screech. When they turned around—neither slowly nor quietly—they saw Sei standing behind them, not grinning as she normally might have been. Rather, her face was fairly serious.

"You want to leave Shimako alone about that for a while," she said quietly, her voice uncharacteristically raspy. "When we go outside, talk about anything else, okay?" She attempted a half-hearted smile, made it about three-quarters of the way.

Yumi looked at Sei for a moment, but before she could say anything, Yoshino said, "All right. I understand."

Sei smiled. "Tonight ought to be interesting, I think, if that's the case."

Yumi hadn't the slightest idea what was going on.

Yoshino looked a little darker after that.

* * *

**Three**

* * *

Rei and Sachiko came back a few minutes after that, carrying their towels. This surprised Yumi—they had been wearing their towels as they walked out, out of a sheer sense of modesty that only Sei seemed to have no trouble overcoming. Yumi, Yoshino, and Shimako were still wearing them.

The first thing that Yumi thought was, _she really does look good in that._

The first thing that Sachiko thought was almost exactly the same.

"Where did you go?" Yoshino asked. Rei shrugged helplessly.

What Rei vocalized was: "We had a cup of coffee," What Rei said was: _I'll tell you when I'm ready._

Yumi immediately walked to Sachiko's side, as quickly as she could. Immediately, the latter girl felt a matched set of tugs at her: One told her to move away, as quickly as she could, to look away and tell everybody that she felt ill and tell Yumi to go with the others and _flee, flee as fast as you can before you do something that would shame you in front of everybody._

The other told her to move towards Yumi, and maybe to do something that might shame her in front of everybody.

She felt comfortable meeting the two tugs halfway, and standing still until Yumi reached her, and then smiling at her _petite soeur, _who took Sachiko's hand as soon as she was in reach and gave her a look which went far beyond the scope of ordinary concern.

"Are you all right, _Onee-sama?_"

"Of course I am!" Sachiko said immediately, a smile which surprised her coming to her face. "Yumi, please don't be ridiculous. Rei simply wanted to treat me to a cup of coffee."

Yumi blinked. "_Onee-sama, _you don't drink coffee."

For some reason, this simple knowledge caused a very faint flutter of Sachiko's stomach. _Didn't it take me twice that time, back in the café, to remember that myself?_

"She does now," Rei said with a little grin. "I think all of you will afterwards, too. We can all drink some after we finish catching our colds."

At this, everybody except Shimako, who was still caught up in her own thoughts, looked towards the glass door, and a collective sigh seemed to run through them.

"Whose idea was this again?" Sei asked with a slight grimace. Simply by the draft through the door, they could tell it was far chillier outside than they had anticipated. There was such a thing as a warm rain, but it was rare and apparently, they were simply not lucky.

"I seem to recall you backing it up fairly strongly," Sachiko said with a sort of forced sternness. "And I do think it's too late to back out at this point."

"Says who?" Sei said.

Sachiko did not point, (ladies did not point) but instead turned her head towards the front desk, where Satoi Tanaka and Kiyomi Yoshida were looking at them with raised eyebrows, Kiyomi with a small grin on her face that Sachiko could not entirely place.

"The fans await," Rei said, and the two behind the desk waved.

"We can hold your towels for you if you like," Kiyomi said.

"That's an excellent idea," Sachiko said before anybody could object. A minute later, and the towels were gathered up and safely behind the wood front desk. Shimako had been unreceptive to any of this until Yoshino had asked her directly to please hand her the towel around her chest, which the girl had done almost unconsciously.

And so, all that was left was to actually go outside.

Easier said than done, indeed.

"I'm getting chilly just looking at it," Yumi murmured. Sachiko put a hand on her head, and when the girl looked up, she saw a smile from Sachiko brighter than any she had seen in almost a year.

"Well then," she said, "it doesn't make sense to simply stand there looking at it, does it?"

"Sachiko?" Sei said, her voice a little incredulous. "Are you…stupid?"

Sachiko smiled at Sei. "No," she said.  
_What the hell are you, then?  
I'm …  
Giddy.  
That's the right word exactly.  
Why?_

Sachiko had no idea. She only knew that she felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and that she had Rei to thank for that. It had been there for less than ten minutes, but already it had felt as though she might have simply been crushed to death if it had lasted much longer.

She smiled at Rei, who grinned back.

"All right!" Rei said, projecting her best kendo-instructor voice. "Everybody, no more messing around! Outside, now!"

Yoshino, catching a ride on the sudden wave of energy coming from Rei and Sachiko, opened the door, to small whoops from Kiyomi and an amused look from Satoi.

Shimako still stood against the wall, studying that strange, intangible space, and it seemed that she might do that forever, until Yumi left Sachiko's side and crept up to Shimako's with a single backwards glance at Sachiko, who for possibly the first time in her life felt not even the slightest regret that Yumi was no longer there. She didn't know what had gone on between Shimako and Sei, but it must have been bad if Shimako was still reeling like this. Everybody fell silent, and Yumi, her face now also shining with that radiant energy that seemed to be catching like wildfire, turned around to face the group and held up three fingers silently.

Three fingers.

Two fingers.

Sei glanced at Yumi and wondered momentarily at how lucky Sachiko Ogasawara truly was.

For once, Sachiko and Sei were almost on the save wavelength at that moment.

One finger.

Yoshino looked at Rei, who smiled lovingly back. Yoshino had the feeling that one of Rei's halfway matronly _oh I'm so glad you're here and okay _hugs was in her future. It was a halfway pleasant thought.

Yumi's hand closed into a fist, and then several things happened at once:

All of them bolted straight out into the cold, perhaps inspired by some wave of monstrous stupidity, or perhaps goaded into it by the fact that Rei Hasekura and Sachiko Ogasawara would be hot on their tails if they didn't. Yumi grabbed onto Shimako's bare arm and yanked her out; the latter girl gave a small yelp, whether at the shock or the surprise of being so suddenly interrupted, Sachiko didn't know.

It was cold.

Oh, yes, it was cold. It was cold and wet, but they got used to it fast enough that when Yumi began to bolt towards the lake, everybody followed.

Even Sachiko Ogasawara. Even the girl who had come close to shrieking at a simple coffee stain on a cheap swimsuit.

They all dived in, Shimako no longer needing to be led by Yumi. The lake was actually a great deal warmer than the air and so they stayed there for a while. Eventually, Sachiko caught up to Yumi, and Yumi needed no other provocation to veritably fling herself into her_ grande soeur_'s arms.

As they hugged, Sachiko felt something else prickling the bottom of her belly.

She ignored it. It was for later, she felt.

And this, after all, was the present. It was not to be lived in the future,  
_(o-sake isn't that what Sei wanted to bring did she actually bring that? That's illegal)_  
nor in the past,  
_(there is no way you can get past the fact that you are simply not normal. You do not belong with them)_  
but right there.

And Yumi was warm.

And then Yumi, in what she would later call a moment of unthinking giddiness, kissed Sachiko as high as she could reach, which wound up being on the collarbone. It was a light, quick thing, and Yumi pulled back almost as soon as she had done it, her face red with embarrassment, and Sachiko felt herself begin to laugh. It tickled. It was not the sort of  
_(memory. There is a memory here.  
This isn't the past leave me be.)_

Unpleasant, unwarranted tickle that Sachiko was used to, either.

It was nice.

When Yumi finally left to join Yoshino in an epic quest to dunk Shimako, who, in spite of her head being completely drenched already by the pouring rain, refused to submerge her head in the water, Sachiko saw something else:

Yumi was very beautiful. Her face shone, pale like the moon, even through the gray haze of the rain. Her body was slim, the lines which made up her outline smooth.

_Is it really okay to think that about your petite…about Yumi?  
(this is the present)  
I'll think about it later._

That turned out to be just fine.

* * *

The next one probably won't be as BYAAHH fast, since I have finals in a week and a half.

What the hell, though, yeah? As always, thanks for reading!


	13. 12: Slip out

Author's Notes:

Go on, guess where this chapter's song is from. If you get it, you get more than just a cookie. You get excellent taste in anime :) hint.

The_ kamikaze _was originally the name given to the storm which swept away both of the Mongolian Kublai Kahn's invasion fleets, first in 1274, and then in 1281. (In truth, this was largely due to the poor quality of the seafaring craft they rode—flatbottomed boats meant for river travel and the like).

Wow. I wrote seven pages of this, and then didn't touch it for almost a month. Sorry about that, guys. But, I'm back. Again, longest chapter yet. Grab yourself a beer and a comfy chair.

My awesome editor, Sumiregawa-kun, is sick right now, (give her your best wishes--she kicks ass!) so this chapter went through unbeta'd. I did my best on my own, but without her, it won't be nearly as neat as it would be with her. I'll be making sporadic edits through the rest of the week, so if you don't like the look of something (like a character), feel free to shoot me a PM about it (I always appreciate feedback), or just wait—I'll probably catch it at some point. I felt that you guys had waited long enough for this that I wanted to get it out as fast as I could.

Extra graditude goes to Andwick, who graciously provided me with a large number of edits to firm this chapter up. Give him a hand.

I'd like to thank you all for being patient with me. You all kick ass, and you always have. As always, thanks for reading.

* * *

_Sorrow is what I hate / but it's grown my sensations _

_I'm scared to death_

* * *

Chapter 12

Slip Out

* * *

**One**

* * *

Fifteen minutes after they had bolted out into the rain, whooping and yelling and generally carrying on in a most unladylike manner, six upright members of the Lillian Catholic School for Girls trouped triumphantly into the lobby of the small hotel just off the coast of Lake Suwa, to the applause and general merriment of the two co-owners. Shivering, dripping, and thoroughly delighted, the girls, moving in pairs which made sense to them but may not have made sense to the casual observer, made their way to the counter, where they received their towels, which had been mysteriously folded in their absence. 

"And?" Kiyomi asked as they dried themselves off as best they could while standing in a public lobby and shivering. "How was it? Was it worth the cold?"

She received only a flurry of bright smiles in response, amidst the furious motion of towels and the sound of water hitting Satoi's immaculately clean floor. Satoi winced but took no action for the moment, though Kiyomi thought privately that she would probably be at the tile with a rag the instant these lovely young ladies returned to their rooms.

Kiyomi was watching something else. Even through the act of drying her hair, an act which really ought to occupy one's full attention, the tall one, Sachiko, seemed to be sneaking glances at the short one with the pigtails, whose name Kiyomi could not remember for the life of her. It wasn't something inconspicuous, either—Kiyomi was observant, but not nosy. (Or, at least, she didn't think she was.) It was almost like…

_It's almost like the two of you, huh. _

_Huh. I wonder. _

She didn't wonder too

_(what the hell are the two of you doing in)_

much, though.

Shaking her head sharply, she plastered a grin back on her face and watched the rest of them towel off.

After heads and been dried and towels wrapped around chests, the group bowed with a unison that was almost creepy and thanked Kiyomi and Satoi again, their voices and language ever-so-polite. Sachiko excused them, and they began to make their way towards the elevator.

_Huh._

* * *

**Two**

* * *

They sat in Sei's room in an off-kilter little circle. Not contributing to their cohesiveness was the early conquest by Sei and Yoshino (who had become a little thicker since the car ride) of the quarter of the bed encompassed by their makeshift geometry. 

At first, they talked lightly amongst themselves. Easy, noncommittal opinions on topics like the weather, how Shimako's _petite soeur _was faring, and local politics, the most inconsequential of all, danced back and forth between them and faded as quickly as they'd appeared. Sometimes they talked in pairs, sometimes as a whole group. Their voices never became loud enough to be heard in the hallway—this was, after all, a gathering of Lillian student council members.

After a while, Yoshino leaned towards Sei and started to whisper something into her ear. Sei cut her off when she grabbed her about the belly and flung her towards the bed. Yoshino shrieked then as Sei began to tickle her.

Sachiko didn't look at them.

She looked at Shimako, who looked at the two with eyes that dropped something heavy and remorseful into Sachiko's belly.

After a second or two, the tickling abruptly stopped. If Sachiko had been looking at Sei closely, she might have seen her lock eyes with Shimako for just a moment, and then look away.

Yumi saw that.

She touched Sachiko's hand, and Sachiko took it instinctively. Yumi's grip was momentarily painful, but relaxed significantly when Sachiko returned the pressure.

Apparently, somewhere in that tussle, Yoshino had gotten her message to Sei across, because when they sat up, Sei looked around the room for a second, looked at the door, and then at Yumi and Sachiko, spotted their hands clenched tightly together.

She grinned. There was something in her grin that Sachiko didn't like. Something hard.

"Sachiko, would you be a dear and grab the cooler from the back of the van for me?"

Sachiko blinked. She supposed it would be unbelievably arrogant to be surprised at being asked to do something as simple as that, but she was.

"Why _Onee-sama_?" Yumi asked.

"She's closest to the door, of course," Sei said. "And if we were to go with the next-nearest, it would be a toss-up between you and Rei, and three people can't even fit around that tiny little cooler."

That was very obviously a lie. Sachiko didn't like it. Yumi seemed to like it even less, but she said nothing.

"I'll go too," Rei said. "Sachiko just got out of the hospital, Sei, so there's no excuse not to send _somebody _with her."

"I can go," Yumi said quickly, but Rei shook her head.

"It's all right," Rei said. "You stick around here and try and keep that one from taking her pants off before we get back, all right?"

After that, something happened which should not have happened, and something did not happen which desperately needed to.

"I object to that on the grounds that I was not wearing pants in the lake and none of you complained," was what Sei should have said.

"That's because when you took off your pants to go swimming you were wearing something underneath them, _Onee-sama_," is how Shimako ought to have replied.

Everybody needed to laugh just then.

Instead, Sei and Shimako looked away from each other, both having found (again) that spot between the floor and the chest which is so utterly engrossing to those who want to look anywhere but at you.

And then, something nice happened: Yoshino intervened, and what might have rapidly degenerated into a very awkward _good night _became something agreeable again. For it, all were grateful in their own ways, for doing what they could not do themselves. And for it, much later, after the rest of them went to sleep, Rei would hug Yoshino tightly underneath the covers and whisper to her, _you did a good job. _

"Can I count on you two to take your pants off when you return, then?" Yoshino asked, looking first at Rei, then at Sachiko. "If you do, Yumi might, and then I can show everybody the teddy bear I was telling you about before."

Yumi jumped and reddened. "_Teddy bear?_" she said, her voice terse. "Yoshino, you shouldn't make things like that—"

"It's true!" Yoshino continued, sitting up and grinning infectiously. "There's even lace!"

"You're making this up!" Yumi insisted. "How would you even know about something like that?"

"I know a lot of things about you, Yumi," Yoshino said impishly.

Rei gestured to Sachiko, and the two of them left the room together.

* * *

**Three**

* * *

"Coming down for supplies?" Kiyomi asked as Sachiko and Rei entered the lobby. Satoi was nowhere in sight; Sachiko thought that she might have gone to bed, though the idea seemed mildly absurd to her. Where would she sleep, after all? 

_In her house? They must have a house. They own a hotel; this much alone is enough to tell me that they are not poor. _

It still seemed a little absurd to Sachiko.

_Is that because Kiyomi is still here?_

_I think so._

"I think so," Sachiko said. "In truth, we're retrieving a cooler whose contents are a mystery to us."

Kiyomi raised an eyebrow and a grin both. "That sounds very exciting."

"It's dangerous is what it is," Rei said. The two of them stopped in front of the desk. "When Sei Satou is involved, everything seems to be either dangerous or unsavory." She sounded honestly exasperated.

"That's not true, Rei," Sachiko said, sounding like she only half-believed it.

Kiyomi smiled. "She sounds like a woman I used to know during my high school days."

Rei raised a skeptical eyebrow and Kiyomi added with an impish grin, "You know, just before the Mongolian fleet was swept away by the _kamikaze_. Somewhere around then."

Sachiko laughed politely, and Rei shook her head and sighed. Kiyomi laughed a bit. "Apparently, my comedy routine has become outdated sometime between then and now, as well," she said with a smile that was more infectious than it first seemed.

"What did you end up doing with this friend?" Sachiko asked.

"Did you wind up stringing her up?" Rei added helpfully.

"Heavens, no. She'd never have permitted that," Kiyomi said. "We just…sort of went our separate ways after a while. Honestly, I think most of the things she said were too honest for…" Kiyomi trailed off. "Whoops. I said too much."

"Too much for a lady?" Sachiko said of a sudden, and as she did, a preternatural silence seemed to drop over the lobby, though it was, in truth, not a bit quieter than it had been.

Maybe it was because Kiyomi stopped breathing for a second.

"We have a friend like that, too," Sachiko said. "Sometimes I wonder what we would do if she was ever too honest for a lady. I think it might be something as awful as going our separate ways."

Kiyomi smiled a little. "It isn't awful."

"No," Rei said. "I think it might be."

As they walked out, Rei held Sachiko's hand. Sachiko looked upset, but only to the trained eye. It was the second time Kiyomi had seen her in such a state that day, even if she had to look very closely to notice it.

_Such a well-trained lady, _Kiyomi thought.

_Poor girl._

* * *

**Four**

* * *

Sachiko had been so upset, in fact, that she had not stopped in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary to pray, walking past it at a calm gait which did nothing to reveal her tumultuous head. 

_Sei isn't honest. She's rude, _she thought as she exited. _She takes delight in making others uncomfortable. Whether or not she's honest has nothing to do with it. Look at her choice of _petite soeur.

_You promised yourself you would never think bitterly of Sei for that. _

They slid past the glass doors and into the cold rain, which stung Sachiko's skin. She barely felt it. She had barely felt Rei take her hand.

_I'm not being bitter. It's the truth. Look at her. She chose Shimako, who obviously has no interest in being anybody's anything. She keeps herself at such a distance, I'm amazed even Yumi was able to get close to her._

_You_ are _being bitter. If you had said that out loud, Yumi would have been well in her rights to slap you. Who are you, anyway, to know what Shimako has interest in?_

_After all, think about how she has looked. Something has happened, and you know it, and you are an awful person for thinking poorly of her. _

_But Sei is still not honest. She can't be._

"Am I going to have to let you run into the car to make you tell me what's on your mind?" Rei's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sachiko stopped more out of instinct than anything else, and found that she was, in fact, only a few steps away from slamming into their van. "Or will you get in and have a talk with me?"

Sachiko looked at Rei. "Is there something to talk about?"

Rei gave a little impish grin. "I should have let you hit the van." She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the driver's side using the key. She pulled the door open, and used the electric lock to open the driver's side. "Hop in."

"Are we driving somewhere?"

"Yeah. We're going to get some food. The gift shop is closed, and I imagine the coffee shop doesn't sell a great deal of snacks."

"Snacks?" Sachiko blinked. They had eaten dinner on the road—packaged food from a convenience store they had raided on the way out of Tokyo—and she didn't feel particularly hungry. "Isn't that what's in the cooler?"

Rei smiled again, a little more like an adult this time, and less like a smart-ass imp, a title which she had soundly passed to Yoshino a long time ago. "Sei is a clever girl, but she sometimes forgets the little things."

"Like snacks."

"You'll see."

"Did you say that to make a point, Rei?" Sachiko surprised herself in her directness, but she supposed that she was surprising herself enough on this trip already that that alone should seem almost normal to her.

"No. But from that, I think I've made a point."

"What's that?"

"You want to hear something about Sei that will tell you…something. I don't know why, but it seems like her tiff with Shimako is having quite an effect on you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Me either." Rei started the car. "Buckle your seatbelt. I don't drive as stupidly as Sei does, but I'm in kind of a hurry, and it _is _pouring rain out."

"Why?" Sachiko nonetheless did as Rei had asked, and a moment later, they had pulled out into the parking lot.

"We're delivering vital goods to Sei and Shimako. Sei's sometimes not entirely honest with herself, and when she's like that, she does things that people around her regret."

"…You think that as well?" It took Sachiko a couple of seconds to get it out. A lesser woman might have stuttered.

Rei glanced in Sachiko's direction. "You decided you weren't going to be troubled by that anymore." Her voice was wary but concerned, that of an old friend who knew of old troubles.

"I'm not."

"Then what is this?"

"I'm…not sure."

"Then, you shouldn't let it trouble you, should you? If it's not about _that_, then it's about matters which are none of your, or anybody else's, business. Sei will handle them on her own. She wouldn't have it any other way."

"Isn't that what makes her dishonest?"

"No. If it was you, it would make _you _dishonest."

_How can she not…_want_…Shimako? If she's honest with herself?_

_Maybe she does. But maybe it's something she has to take care of without anybody else. Even Shimako. _

This seemed to Sachiko an incredibly sad thought.

"The two of you were different people, last time I checked, you and Sei. I don't think you should worry about it. She has things that she wants, and she has her own way of dealing with them. And you…" she smiled a little. "I think you do, too. Ah, we're here."

Ahead of them, a small gas station and convenience store seemed to grow off of the highway like a fungus. They pulled in, and Rei turned the car off. "Please stay in here. I'll get soaked enough for the both of us," she said.

And then, Sachiko was alone with herself.

_It's really none of our business. _

_That seems like such a strange idea._ _It seemed like half of what we did on the student council was get involved in each other's lives; the Lord knows that Rei did her fair share of that herself. And yet, here she is, telling me that we should let it be, because it's their business. _

A few seconds later, the door opened again, and Rei popped in again, dripping wet, holding several bags full of peanuts and dried seaweed. She looked down, trying to find a decent place to stash them so that she didn't step on them when she drove, and as she did, Sachiko looked her. Looked at the long, graceful line of her neck. Looked at the focus on her face—not plastered on and held only by the utmost force and determination, but natural. Calm. Confident. Looked at the calm brilliance in her dark eyes, which in spite of their light no longer shimmered with youth and energy as they once had—even though Rei had always been a contained woman, there had been something there which was no longer so…blatant. Sachiko looked at the way Rei adeptly nudged her hair—short enough not to be able to tie back, but long enough to get in her face when it was wet—out of her eyes, and tuck it behind her ear. "Would you hold this for me, please?" she finally asked. "I don't think I can put it anywhere else." She met Sachiko's eyes and smiled gently.

And then, Sachiko felt something hit her full-on in her stomach, and a thought occurred to her which she would not have expected from herself in a million years:

_Did Rei…grow up?_

Rei was more mature now, that was certain—that was natural. She was older. But there was more to it than that: She seemed utterly…comfortable. As though she knew where the boundaries of ladyship and friendship lay, and how to easily tread them, and that holding one's spot rigidly was simply the quickest path to the mental ward.

_You say these things, and yet you do not believe them. It is as though somebody has said them to you and then followed up with, _you'll understand when you're older.

_But I _am _older. I'm in college now._

_Then you're old enough to know that anybody who needs to assert that still has growing to do._

It scared her. But more than that, it saddened her.

"Sachiko?" Rei's hand was on Sachiko's cheek, her voice concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"You're crying."

Sachiko felt her mind begin to sink into the blind haze which sometimes accompanied this strange sort of grief, and in the midst of that said, for once, exactly what was on her mind. "You're growing. You…left me behind."

Rei tensed for a minute, and then relaxed and smiled. "I'm not an adult yet," she said. "None of us are. I think I'm mature enough to admit that, but that's all I can really hold to." She removed her hand and instead took Sachiko's in her own. Sachiko found that Rei's hand was wet, and for some reason, this seemed strange to her. "Nobody's leaving anybody behind, but we all change, Sachiko. We all grow. We only leave people behind if we grow into carelessness."

"You haven't." Sachiko sniffled a little, doing her best to make it as unnoticeable as possible.

Rei handed her a tissue which she took from a little niche in her door. "You either. The hardest thing is not to leave your _petite soeur _behind, I think. Eriko told me that, and she was certainly right."

"I hardly ever see Eriko anymore," Sachiko said.

Rei smiled. "I see her plenty. She calls me so often that I wonder if she actually has schoolwork."

This made Sachiko almost unbearably happy, all at once.

"I'm glad," she said.

* * *

**Five**

* * *

When they returned to the hotel, Rei showed Sachiko what was in the cooler so that she wouldn't lose her expression when she saw it in the hotel room. Sheltered by the trunk of the van, Rei lifted the top of the cooler and showed Sachiko the single largest collection of beer that Sachiko had ever seen. (In fairness, the only time she was really exposed to alcohol was at her family's parties, and people who attended those preferred to drink themselves to death out of fancy martini glasses rather than bottles.) For some reason, the first thing that came to mind when Sachiko saw this was not, _Will we die if we drink all this? _but rather, _there's no wine. _Sachiko and beer did not mix well. Surely it could not be good for her stomach. 

"That's why we brought food," Rei said, reading her mind. "You'll be eating before you touch a drop. I got this while I was in there, too." From her jacket pocket, Rei pulled a pair of packages of bread. "Eat well and you'll be fine."

Sachiko only blinked. "How…what is all of this?"

"It's alcohol, and a lot of it. I think Sei and Yoshino both had their minds set on something like this. It's mostly for you, but it's also for Sei."

"For…me?"

"Sei would say that you need to relax some. I agree with that, but I'm not certain I agree with her methods. I am, however, pretty sure that it wouldn't be a good time to argue with her about it."

"Is this safe?"

Rei smiled, and for a spare moment, Sachiko saw a heart-achingly nostalgic impishness in it. _(funny, it didn't make your chest wrench fifteen minutes ago)_ "I'll make sure none of you do anything stupid. I might have one or two, but I don't like beer that much." Rei shook her head, sending water everywhere. "I think Sei would tell you to relax, and that wouldn't be too bad of an idea right now. I think we're probably going to wind up drinking most everything in here, and you don't slip out of your shell a little bit, you'll wind up on the floor sobbing about your cat or something."

"That sounds like something Sei would say."

"It's the truth. Have you ever seen an uptight drunk?"

Sachiko had, and now that she thought about it, Rei was absolutely right.

Even so, it seemed wrong to her. The idea of drinking to get drunk.

Wrong, but familiar. What else did the rich and bored do with their time?

_I'm not bored._

_But you are rich._

_I won't be like them._

_Then relax. _Oddly enough, not Sei's voice. Yumi's. _Part of growing up is learning how to relax and be on your guard at once. It's called being "careful."_

"Okay," Sachiko said. "I'll be careful."

"And if you can't, I'll be careful for you."

Sachiko smiled.

* * *

**Six**

* * *

Satoi knew something was wrong the moment Sachiko walked in the door. She had just woken up from her nap, and called the night staffer—whom she had woken up, but who had promised to be there in ten minutes—and begun to gather her things from the front desk when Sachiko and Rei walked in. 

"Excuse me," Kiyomi said, practically before she had thought about it. "Miss Ogasawara."

Satoi stared at her. She and Rei stopped, and Sachiko said, "Yes?"

"Could I ask for a few minutes of your time?"

_You're being absurd, _Kiyomi thought.

_Even so. I want to know. _

_Because it feels lonely sometimes?_

_Because it feels lonely sometimes._

"Of course," Sachiko said with an agreeable smile.

_And so easily approachable. Even when a stranger asks for a minute of her time, she doesn't seem perturbed in the least; only happy to oblige. So well-trained. _

_Poor girl._

Kiyomi caught the girl's eye, and a moment later, Sachiko said to Rei, "You can go on ahead of me. I'll only be a minute."

Rei met Sachiko's eye, and then nodded. She privately marveled at how Sachiko could go from being so open and

_(human) _

very nearly unguarded to being so ladylike in the blink of an eye.

A half minute later, the elevator doors closed and it was just Sachiko, Kiyomi, and Satoi in the lobby. Sachiko, who had looked at Rei until she could no longer see her, turned back to the two owners.

"So," she said pleasantly. "What can I do for you, Miss Tanaka, Miss Yoshida?" Though her voice was light, her face was ambivalent; she looked to Kiyomi very much like a girl who knew her way around other people, and who was prepared in equal parts for confrontation and conversation.

_Is that being _careful? Kiyomi thought.

"Indeed," Satoi said, also facing Kiyomi, "What can I do for you, Miss Yoshida?" Her voice was not annoyed, but it was a near thing.

"Satoi," Kiyomi said, "Miss Ogasawara, would you join me for a cup of coffee?"

Satoi narrowed her eyes. "You can say what you're going to say here, or you can wait for the night staff to arrive. It's not as if there's anybody around to listen in."

_Satoi, please don't be so suspicious._

Kiyomi sighed. "All right, then," she said, and then, completely to the surprise (though not shock) of both of the other women, she took Satoi's hand and pulled her close, gently. Satoi allowed herself to be led, and her face went from near-annoyance to concern in half a second.

"What is it, Kiyomi?" she asked, immediately putting her hand on Kiyomi's cheek and moving the woman's face to look at her. Kiyomi pulled away gently, and Sachiko thought that it might be a lover's kind of pull—the kind of pull that you had to take great care with, so that you neither appeared to jerk out of the other's grasp nor to ask to be let go.

"Just let me talk, Satoi," Kiyomi said, and looked back at Sachiko. "Miss Ogasawara—"

Sachiko held up a hand. _(never interrupt) _"Sachiko is fine," she said, her own face creasing with a concern that made Kiyomi's throat want to constrict. How else could she react to such immediate kindness from a near stranger?

It reminded Kiyomi of something she had been told long ago.

_Just because you are troubled, does not mean anybody has to give a damn._

_A _real _lady or gentleman will, though; indeed, that is the true mark of such a person. That's what they'll never teach you there, ever, because they know you can't teach kindness or_ true _character._

"You said you were from Tokyo," Kiyomi said.

"That's correct. I did."

"Are you going towards Kyoto?"

"We are."

"Most people don't come here bound for anywhere save Kyoto or this very lake, and you only took out a room for the night, so I thought so. But you're traveling with a cadre of girls. At _your _age."

"Kiyomi," Satoi said sharply, "if you're upset, then by all means, please tell us, but don't be rude."

"No," Sachiko said. "It's all right. May I ask what you are insinuating, Miss Yoshida?"

"Nothing," Kiyomi said. "Please, don't take this the wrong way. I'm just…" She shook her head hard. "Sachiko, are you a student of the Lillian School for Girls?"

Satoi blinked. Sachiko did not. "I was, but I have since graduated. How did you know?"

"You stopped to pray at the Virgin Mary statue like it was a part of your routine. You are very close with a girl who looks younger than you, rather than the girls who are your age, which suggests to me that she's your _petite soeur._"

"You mean Yumi," Sachiko said, and something about the way she said it gave Kiyomi the courage to keep going, even though she knew without even looking that Satoi was ten seconds away from simply taking her out back, strangling her, and dumping her body in the lake at high tide. Kiyomi was being rude to a customer, of all people. Kiyomi that _she _taught to be polite, always. "That's right." _Always always _always _be unfalteringly polite._

_Except when it's only the two of you, isn't that right?_

_Yes._

"Kiyomi," Satoi said with a hint of warning in her voice. "What are you getting at?"

Kiyomi looked at Satoi. "How did you feel when we left, Satoi?"

Satoi's eyes widened a little, but she covered it well. "That was in the seventies, Kiyomi," she said. "I can't remember something that far back."

"You can," Kiyomi said. "And you do."

Sachiko said, "Is there something amiss here that I should be aware of? If the two of you are having some sort of difficulty, I would be happy to act as—"

"Please," Kiyomi interrupted, holding up a hand. "I apologize for interrupting you, but please let me take this at my own pace."

Sachiko nodded.

"Answer my question, please, Satoi."

"I think this is a discussion best left for—"

"Please." There was something in Kiyomi's eyes that resembled a plea, though Kiyomi never pled.

Satoi looked at Sachiko, who only looked back, her eyes saying nothing, and Satoi thought, _That girl has been well-trained. Not a hint of curiosity, morbid or otherwise, shows in her eyes, even though by all rights it should, since she knows by now that this will pertain to her. _

_Poor girl._

Satoi sighed. "I felt awful," she said. "And I felt relieved."

"Why?"

Satoi narrowed her eyes. "Is it necessary to say—"

"I think it is."

"Do not interrupt people, Kiyomi."

"I'm sorry, _Onee-sama._"

Sachiko's eyes widened, as did Satoi's. Satoi's, however, then turned regretful.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, Kiyomi." She put her hand on Kiyomi's head.

Kiyomi smiled back as best she could.

"Because I felt that there was nobody left in that school who we could trust. I felt that after the…events occurred at the Yamayurikai, that if anybody had caught the two of us so much as holding hands, we would have been driven out, and violently. It was not a good time to be Catholic and…what we were." After a moment, "Are."

"It is a good enough time now that you can say it outright, _Onee-sama._" Kiyomi's voice had an edge to it.

After a pause which was half angry and half something which Sachiko could not place, Satoi said, "Homosexual."

Sachiko blinked this time. The idea certainly was not anything new nor stunning to her—especially not after today. It simply seemed like too strong of a coincidence to her to be anything short of a divine plan.

Kiyomi turned back to Sachiko. "When we left, I was honestly ready to be rid of that place. I was disgusted with the way they treated us, and with the way it was so easily overlooked by the administration and by the other members of the Yamayurikai. The way that hatred and disgust was so tied up with a place which I loved and cherished for eleven years is…" she shook her head. "Hard to take sometimes. Sometimes I feel as though the only good thing to come out of it was meeting Satoi, but when I do, the memories of the fun I had there, and of the friends I made, force me to regret, and badly." Kiyomi was crying—rather, tears were running down her face, which was utterly impassive as she spoke.

Sachiko thought, _She has been well-trained. This must be incredibly painful for her, and yet she won't allow herself to break her expression around somebody she is not intimate with, even as she tries to cast off Lillian._

_Poor girl._

Sachiko said, gently, "What did you need from me, Kiyomi?"

Kiyomi looked her straight in the eye.

"Do they treat you and Miss Fukuzawa well?"

Sachiko's breath froze in her chest.

_Relax._

_Just be careful. Be Rei._

_No, don't. Be you._

"I'm still…working on that particular issue," she said slowly. "With myself. There is, though, somebody else in my group who I think could share a few insights with you. If you like, I can ask her to speak with you tomorrow."

Kiyomi looked at Satoi, and then at Sachiko, breathless, and then said, "I would like that very much."

Sachiko smiled and bowed slightly. "I'll do that, then. But…I can tell you one thing."

"What's that?"

Sachiko felt nervous for some reason.

No, not nervous. Anxious. Scared. This was important, so it was a little scary, even if she'd never admit it.

"We are the Yamayurikai from the past three years, in bits and pieces," she said as warmly as she could. "And Sei is a very important woman to us."

Though they hadn't memorized all of the names of the group yet, Kiyomi knew exactly what Sachiko was saying, and this time, both she and Satoi smiled, looking near to tears.

"I'm glad," Kiyomi said. "Thank you very much, Miss Ogasawara."

"Sachiko is fine," Sachiko said, and then she bowed excused herself.

"Don't drink too much," Satoi called after her, surprising her. Though her face didn't show it, Satoi could tell anyway. "Nothing sounds quite like beer bottles clanking together. It was almost like the cooler was toasting itself."

This seemed halfway philosophical, but Sachiko got the feeling that if she were to present it to a class, she might be laughed out.

On the elevator, she caught her breath. Though it had left her exhausted, it had left her happy, too, to be part of somebody else's life and troubles, not because she was trying to look out for them, but because she was invited.

It felt nice to help, and not simply to interfere, for a change.

_Maybe you'll grow up, too. Maybe you already have a little—maybe that's why Rei can still talk to you like she does. _

_In any event, maybe you'll slip out a little bit. _

Sachiko found herself looking forward to the night.


	14. 13: Be Free, Part One

Author's Notes:

Warnings for this chapter: Adult situations and underage drinking. And cussing. (I totally pulled it off.) Scary, I know. Don't let it bug you—it's everywhere in Japan, as you can buy beer out of vending machines right on the street.

As you can probably tell, I'm focusing pretty heavily on Fake right now. My apologies go out to fans of Resolution, which I have sorely neglected, but which I promise I will get back on soon. Right now, I'm kind of pushing to see where this hotel thing goes.

For those of you who don't know, Hokkaido Prefecture is home to Sapporo-shi, the city where the famous beer is brewed.

If you're curious about the Buddhist thing (how they're generally encouraged not to drink), you could start by looking up the principles of Sila. If you are a Buddhist and you feel that I've done a poor job of representing you (I did my research, but I'm not a Buddhist myself, so naturally, errors are likely), please PM me and I'll do my best to fix the error.

The handkerchief thing is normal. Trust me.

I'm splitting this chapter into two parts. It's frigging huge.

When Shimako says "Forty five," She is, of course, measuring in kilograms, which is about a hundred pounds. She's a small girl; you knew it.

Many thanks go out to my awesome editor, Sumiregawanenene, for staying up late to help me finish this chapter.

As always, thanks for reading! And hey, if you liked it, or if you didn't, drop me a review and tell me about it! (If you have a question, feel free to drop me a PM, too.)

* * *

_Come on, go barefoot / you'll be free / I'd like you to just talk / now, I'll show you your truth._

_No matter what, you got to believe._

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Be Free (First part)

* * *

**One**

* * *

Sachiko had heard a lot of rumors about the taste of beer and its close, long-standing relationship with equine urine, but had only tasted it once, so long ago that she could hardly remember the taste at all, only that the custodian who had given it to her had had a rough, hard face that she had secretly been in love with. The custodian was long dead now, and she had a feeling that she was the only one who still remembered that gentle gleam in his eyes underneath his bitter expression, passing a twelve year old Sachiko his bottle of Sapporo and telling her to have a seat if that was what she wanted. 

She remembered coughing heavily after her first sip. Her second was more controlled, but she had remembered thinking it tasted like…what? It was strange, really, how little what she was drinking mattered to her. They hadn't really talked at all, since her mother had forbidden her to do such a thing not a week before. (Her mother was, after all, a perceptive woman who really did want what was best for her, or so she claimed to her friends.)

He only said one thing to her, really, and that was what she really remembered about the whole thing. He gave a gentle little smile after taking the bottle back from her. "Not your cup of tea, huh," he had said. "That's all right. Beer's not for everybody, much as everybody would like you to think it is, you know?" Sachiko had not spoken back to him, and he didn't seem offended by that.

In spite of the fact that he didn't even really look at her, let alone touch her, (and she didn't actually know what she would have done if he had) it seemed to her very nearly romantic all the same.

He had quit soon after that. She never heard from him again, and the next time she saw his face, it was in the newspaper as a neutral writing voice told her about how he had drunkenly driven his car off of a highway overpass into the face of oncoming traffic and killed four people. That had been three years later, and she had nearly forgotten him by that point, but for the rest of the day, she had felt the claws of a strange, icy depression dig into her ribs and her chest. That was really the taste she associated with beer—not a taste at all, but those cold, icy fingers, stabbing at her heart and at her sides.

She knew that if she told any of the girls in the hotel room about it, they would probably ask her to see a doctor, but for some reason, when Yumi passed her her first mug of beer and she put it to her lips (after some hesitation), the first sensation she felt was not the taste, but those fingers again, creeping up her pants, moving over her panties without so much as a hesitant stroke, up past her sides and onto her shoulders, where they rested and shoved her down, bending her back as best they could.

"Is it all right, _Onee-sama?_" she asked. She put a hand on Sachiko's shoulder, whether by coincidence or some bizarre cosmic design exactly on top of the invisible hands. "If you want, you don't have to—"

Sachiko straightened her back, and as she put her hand on top of Yumi's, the icy, chilly hands vanished back into her past. "I'm fine, Yumi," she said with a smile.

Yumi smiled back and then was passed her own mug—it had turned out that, buried underneath that enormous stack of self-toasting alcohol, there had been a small stack of six mugs to drink out of.

"Hey Sachiko," Sei said. "What are you doing? You've got to toast with us before you're allowed to kill your liver."

It was such an unbelievably stupid gaffe that Sachiko had to stop from pinching herself on the spot; normally such a social error would be cause for scolding by either a parent, or, more likely, her manners coach, so that she almost expected it to happen here, now, in the middle of a cool, locked hotel room filled with her closest friends.

Instead, everybody laughed.

"I'm very sorry," Sachiko said as sincerely as she could, and Sei winked.

"Don't worry about it. If I had Yumi sitting right next to me like that, I'd be in a rush to do something out my inhibitions, too."

Shimako said nothing to this, though a fifth grader could have thought of _you have inhibitions? _as a decent response. She did not stare at the ground, but she did not look at anybody, either.

Sei began filling mugs and passing them around, but when she filled one to pass to Shimako, she stopped, blinked, and then sighed. Yoshino looked at her, and then looked back at Shimako, and a second later, her face lit up in understanding, and she said, "I'll take that one, Sei."

"No."

Shimako's voice was very small, very delicate. Sei openly gaped, and it seemed to Sachiko a little funny that the first thing that Sei said to Shimako after several hours of painfully awkward silence was, "Are you sure?"

Shimako nodded a little timidly, and Yoshino passed her a glass.

"All right, then?" Sei said. "Everybody got one? Great." She raised her mug, and everybody followed suit, even Shimako, who looked up. At first, Sachiko thought that she would just clink somebody's glass, being in a rush to drink, but instead, Sei took a moment, and then smiled. It wasn't a grin, as Sachiko was used to from her, but a genuine smile. She looked at Shimako, who didn't look away, though she appeared as though she wanted to.

"To friends and whatever else we are," Sei said, "for all of our highs and deep, deep lows, I wouldn't drink with anybody else in a locked hotel room just off of a largely empty highway."

She looked as Shimako as she said it. When she was finished, she did not drink.

Shimako took a second, and then said, with some difficulty, smiled back. Her eyes shone with…something. "Cheers," she whispered, unable or perhaps unwilling to raise her voice any higher.

Sei reached across Yoshino—which involved essentially setting her chest on the girl's lap—and clinked her glass with Shimako's. She straightened up and clinked with Yoshino, and said, "Well, you heard the lady. Cheers."

And as that sentiment echoed across the room, Sachiko echoed it right along with the rest.

Sachiko felt funny at first, and that had nothing to do with the still mildly nostalgic taste of the beer; she knew this because the funny feeling started before she drank (the second time): It started when she clinked her glass, first with Yumi, and then Rei, and echoed along with the rest of them, "Cheers." And as she did, her voice neither stood out nor faded away; rather, it blended in, a unique ingredient in a common dish.

A man might have called this _being one of the gang, _but Sachiko knew very few men. An average girl might have called it _being one of the girls, _but Sachiko knew very few average girls; one of them was sitting next to her working determinedly on her glass of beer, trying to compensate for the fact that her glass was almost too large for her mouth with the fact that her tolerance for alcohol was abysmal.

It is always very difficult for somebody who has a very strong sense of self to let herself be pleasantly lost in a crowd of friends. Because Sachiko's thoughts were very often turned inwards, because she always, always _watched herself, _in the least vain sense, and because blending in and being absorbed into a group of friends required one to look at others first; or rather, to simply not look inwards, being too absorbed with what was happening around, it was something which was difficult for Sachiko. It required a great deal of effort, and at first she was not able to keep it up for very long. Rei started telling a story about when Yoshino was very young, and Sachiko was not sure when to laugh. (Sei might have advised, _laugh when the story is funny._ Yoshino might have advised, _never, if you want to wake up in one piece.) _She didn't want to be rude, however, so when Rei told them about Yoshino tearing down the block wearing nothing but a pair of training underpants and a smile the size of Honshu, and Yoshino responded by turning a deep shade of red, Sachiko didn't laugh even though everybody else did, not wanting to offend Yoshino, who was clearly becoming angry.

But then something else funny happened: Instead of being angry, Yoshino fumed for a second or two and then shouted at Rei, smiling. Rei took it politely and then said something about Yoshino saying the same thing when screamed at by her mother that time to come in and put some pants on. Laughter again, and Yoshino drank another mouthful and turned her nose up at Rei, and Sei remarked, "I know who's sleeping on the floor tonight."

And nobody was angry. Nobody had a fit or smashed a bottle of wine or threatened to bankrupt a company or smacked anybody else. And Sachiko thought, _what if I laugh at the next joke? Will it make a fool of me? How will I know when the next joke comes? There's no hushed pause at the end of a sentence and then awkward laughter from the teller to inform me that the punch line has just been told. _

_What if it's Yumi telling us? I know when she's telling a joke._

But Yumi didn't tell a story. Rei told another story, and when she told them about the bunny rabbits and where precisely they went, Sachiko thought it funny, and so she laughed, and so did everybody else.

Sachiko had laughed in public before. Often when this happened, people noticed; the most notable instance of this being Yumi's performance early on in their

_(relationship? Is that what we call this?)  
(friendship?)  
(what do you call this?)_

This time, nobody noticed. It was expected. If it was funny, and it was, you laughed.

Well, _almost _nobody. Yumi noticed, and so she slid back so that she was sitting just next to Sachiko, and took another small mouthful of beer, and then she put her hand on Sachiko's.

It got easier after that. Part of that was the alcohol; with each mouthful, Sachiko doubted herself less; trusted herself more than her training. Sometimes, she followed Yumi's lead, and sometimes she was able to do it by herself; mostly, she did it by looking first at Yumi, and then at those around her, and then maybe forgetting to look inwards.

Because that was really what blocked somebody from having a good time with friends, who usually accepted other friends for whoever they were, rude or not, funny or not: Self-consciousness. Sachiko was not so multitalented that she was able to both watch her own behavior and relax at once, and really, Sei might have told her, that wasn't the point anyway. They were getting sloshed (and rather quickly, Rei thought; lightweights, the lot of them—she didn't bother to look at Shimako, who was still politely nursing about half of her first mug); the goal was to not worry about watching their behavior. That was what they did professionally, Sachiko moreso than all of them. It was impossible to do that twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year.

_So what does that mean? _Sachiko thought as they paused and Sei passed refills along—Shimako took a refill but did not make to drink it; Sachiko and Yumi as well, though Rei politely declined.

_I would have thought that was obvious to somebody as bright as you, _a voice in her head that sounded remarkably like herself said. _It means you're more than a Lady. You should have known that all along._

_That sounds like a bucket of worms to me. A psychiatrist's nightmare, or maybe his windfall. _

_Hell if it isn't._

Hell if it wasn't.

* * *

**Two**

* * *

Sei Satou had always had a fairly good tolerance for alcohol. It wasn't legendary like Rei's was, (_legendary _was a relative term, since it was, in fact, a closely guarded secret of hers, and she so rarely drank) but she wasn't such a lightweight as Yumi, who was working hard on her second mug. 

Maybe that was why it surprised her when, halfway into her own second, she very nearly did not stop herself from moving off of her perch onto the bed and next to Shimako. It began with the first of many trips to the bathroom, which was composed entirely of porcelain so white it made her head hurt.

As she dried her hands on a handkerchief, she exited the bathroom and started to make her way across the haphazard circle of upright girls who were all (with two exceptions) trying very hard to forget for a night how upright they really were. (She promised herself she would come up with a decent line to tease them with tomorrow as she stepped over Yumi, taking care not to knock her nose into her mug.)

_(Where are you going? She's that way.)_

Sei stopped.

_What?_

_(She's that way. She's not on the bed, so where are you going?)  
But why would I need to do that?  
(If you sit next to her she'll let you.)  
But why would I need to do that? She'll forgive me if she wants to.  
(She'll hug you if you sit next to her.)  
That's absurd.  
(She'll kiss you if you sit next to her.)  
You're an idiot. I'm an idiot. You're a product of my booze-addled brain, and I swear to God, I'm never drinking this much again.  
(She'll touch you if you sit next to her.)  
Booze addled my libido too, that's great. You're hitting close to home, buster, and that's going to just get you hit.  
(She'll _fuck _you if)_

Sei caught Shimako's eye and held it for a full three-quarters of a second—much as they had during the toast—before Shimako dropped her gaze, simultaneously dropping something heavy into Sei's chest.

_She's not speaking to you, remember? _Sei thought. _A little grin at a toast is nothing to throw up banners over, not after…what was it she said? Something like, _until you're willing to speak to me, I can't speak to you. _What did she expect? She can't poss  
(go to)  
piss off_

Yoshino's voice, shaky but not slurred, stopped Sei mid-thought, which was probably for the best. "You know where you're going, Sei? I hope you haven't forgotten your way around the room already." Laughter, and Sei smiled easily, a practiced reflex. She wondered what she was doing—aside from slowing down, nearly to a stop, in the middle of a crowd of people. It was unlike her to lose herself that quickly; Sei did her Catholic best not to be an inward person, since _inward people _tended to wind up doing stupid things like freezing in the middle of a crowd of drunken girls to wax angst about a sisters' tiff that would resolve itself like basically every other one in the history of the damn school. She preferred to think of herself as _well-grounded _and more or less certain of who she was; though, of course, that was just what she thought.

"Sei, would you please pass a bottle over to this end?" Yumi asked politely, stumbling a little at the word _please. _"I think _Onee-sama _would like some more."

As she sat down, though—next to Yoshino again, much as her body compelled her to do otherwise—she couldn't help but think, _but if you've never thought about it, how the hell do you know who you are, you—_

"Sachiko isn't even halfway finished with her glass, you lush," Sei replied with that wry grin that had taken her so damn long to get back that now she couldn't believe she had to force it. "Now, if you'd like some more beer, I think you ought to ask me politely, Miss Fukuzawa," she teased. "Have you found that you're not quite brave enough to slip out of those teddy bears?"

Laughter. It made something inside of Sei move…not quite with pride, but with something very near it. She loved making people grin like she did, even if it did make Yumi go red and say, in a voice that was slightly too loud, "There are no teddy bears!"

"We all saw them, Yumi," Yoshino said. "There's no use hiding it now."

"It's all right, Yumi," Sachiko said as gently as she could, putting her hand on Yumi's. "Teddy bears are nothing to be ashamed of." She said it so innocently that Sei could not resist giving a shit-eating grin, not even for an instant.

"On her panties?" Sei asked, and at hearing this, Sachiko did something that nobody had ever seen her do before, and gasped, jumped slightly, and went a very, very deep shade of red, and Sei knew she was spot-on.

_Sachiko, you try far too hard to be innocent, _she thought, and then, for some reason, found it very nostalgic.  
_But can you really criticize, when—_

"Okay, but this is your last bottle, and then I'm going to change your diaper and put you to bed, Yumi," Sei said.

"You're mean," Yumi grumbled.

"And you are oh-so-cute," Sei replied even as she handed Yumi the bottle. "Or are you too grown-up to sleep in my bed tonight?" _You're going too far. Knock it off; that one was right out there, and you'll—_

"You're being inappropriate, _Onee-sama_," Shimako said. Her voice was probably louder than anybody had ever heard it, and it was thus rather ironic that most everybody in the room was intoxicated to the point where it didn't have an impact on them, since their voices were all louder too.

It had an impact on Sei, though. Sei most definitely caught it.

This probably didn't have the impact that it should have had—nobody froze like Sei did, nor did they all look at Shimako like Sei did. Yoshino was putting back her third mug by this point, and Yumi and Sachiko both looked fairly well shot (Sachiko's low tolerance still surprised Sei, who wasn't yet over the idea that the absurdly rich did anything other than drink and have sex with each others' wives).

Sachiko glanced up, though. Sei saw it, and then remembered that Sachiko Ogasawara was a better fake than she herself would ever be. She never, ever, ever completely lost herself.

_I'm sorry, Shimako, did you want first dibs on Yumi? No, that sounds bitter.  
I had thought that was the idea? Too smart-assed.  
My bad, Sister Toudou? Hell, I might as well just pop her one in the nose, and then fling myself out a window while I'm at it.  
Hey, don't let—_  
"I'm sorry."

Dead silence.

_Damn it to hell, why do I get all the attention? Shimako broke rank first._

For a second, Sei locked eyes again with Shimako.

_What is this?_

"Holy crap," Yoshino said. "Who had a tape recorder? Anybody? Historic freaking event right in this little hotel room."

Laughter unwound the tension, and Sei thought, _Thank you, Hokkaido Prefecture. _

"Yoshino," Rei said. "Your language is as coarse as Sei's."

"Hey, why _Sei's _and not something like sandpaper?"

"The metaphor only works if you use something infamously coarse."

Laughter again.

_I don't think it's the booze, though._

_I think I just have good friends. God Himself couldn't get them to keep their noses out of other peoples' business, but it's because they're concerned, and they know when to back off and when to just…help. _

_Thanks. _


	15. 13: Be Free, Part Two

* * *

_Sometimes, I get anxious and stop._

_Come on, go barefoot / you'll be free / I want you to feel and see / it's okay not to think too hard about it._

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Be free (second part)

* * *

**Three**

* * *

As drinks more and more quickly turned the girls into drunks, Rei found herself increasingly having to nanny people—nobody had thrown up yet, but at the rate they were going, it was really only a matter of time, and when you were that drunk, it was high time to stop—into putting mugs down. Laughter became increasingly easy, though never raucous, which surprised her. She did have to calm Yoshino down a couple of times, but that wasn't hard—the girl seemed to relax utterly at a simple touch, (_And all it took was a few mugs of beer, _Rei thought bemusedly. _All nannies should be so lucky) _the last time, going so far as to simply drop her head into Rei's lap when she came near. She didn't move for a minute or two, and Rei realized that she was asleep.

Really, that was the last straw. She had no real problem with the idea of the thing; in fact, it seemed to be doing wonders for Sachiko, who was laughing—and honestly, just behaving—more freely than Rei had seen her in years. She hated to take that away from her, but, while Yoshino roused a minute or two after, it still sent a terrified chill through Rei's body when she simply dropped like that.

Not bothering to wait for a lull in the conversation, which was only about two-thirds coherent at this point anyway, Rei put on her best Kendo-instructor voice and shouted, "Okay, everybody, time to pack it up and get some sleep."

Nobody objected. In fact, when Sei finally looked at Yoshino in Rei's lap—now more or less roused, but with eyes which were not entirely focused—she sobered immediately and stood up, rousing the crowd along with Rei, pinching and nudging when necessary. "Up, everybody. If your roommate starts to have problems, come get me or Rei right away."

"Rei or I," Shimako corrected, her voice slurred slightly. She had apparently chosen the un-Buddhist path along with the rest of them—or perhaps, simply because of the rest of them.

"Yes, yes, you're very good at Japanese," Sei said, stumbling slightly as she nudged Sachiko and Yumi, both of whom giggled as Sei bumped into them, out the door.

"Are you going to be all right yourself, Sei?" Rei asked.

"I'm fine," Sei said. "It's my own damned fault for acting like a twice-damned idiot, drinking like a thrice-damned fool of a schoolgirl."

Something showed on Sei's face that Rei didn't like. "Lay off of it, Sei," Rei said. "We all made the same mistake. We wanted to have some fun, and I think we just went a little overboard, or maybe we're just a bunch of lightweights."

"You didn't," Sei pointed out. "You acted like a grownup."

Rei shrugged as she helped Yoshino up from the spot on the floor which she had decided was a comfortable place to slump. "If I had asked you to be the grownup tonight, do you think you could have been?"

Sei sat down on the bed with some trouble, looking all the more bitter for it. "I doubt it."

"You've done it before," Rei said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Come see me if you need help."

"I'll be fine," Sei said. "And I still think sandpaper is a better metaphor."

"I'm telling you, you've got to use something people can relate to. If it's the first thing that pops into your mind, it's probably a decent metaphor."

"Cute. Get your pile of a cousin out of here."

Rei left, half-carrying Yoshino. The door shut, the click seeming to echo off of the walls.

The next sound Sei heard echo was the sound of a loud, wet burp; threatening and alarming, both at once. Sei looked at Shimako, who had found time to curl herself up into a little ball, her face contorted in fear.

_(go sit next to)_

"Oh, shit," Sei said, all at once forgetting that she and her _petite soeur _weren't speaking, much less

_(touch)_

touching. A weird combination of adrenaline and experience kicked in then, moving her feet one in front of the other instead of both at the same time, keeping her upright. She moved quickly, picking Shimako up under the armpits. When Shimako didn't move, Sei whispered gently, "Come on, Shimako. I need you to help, or we're not going to make it."

Even from behind, Shimako looked green. For somebody who had never before so much as touched a drop of alcohol, this was probably terrifying, so Sei could understand where the girl was coming from—so to speak—but nonetheless, the girl started to move her legs, which were wobbly at best, but supported her weight, if only because she seemed to weigh next to nothing. _This is not going to do right by her body. What the hell were you thinking? _Shimako started to turn her head to look up at Sei, but Sei used her shoulder to nudge it away. "Keep your mouth pointed down, kiddo," she said. "If you choke, then we're really in it deep."

They made it in about twenty seconds, with about ten to spare. Both spans of time seemed like an eternity to Sei. Into the white, white, white bathroom, taking care not to slip out of their slippers, and then Shimako essentially dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, flipping the lid up almost as an afterthought. She leaned into the bowl, and Sei knelt down beside her and gathered her hair up, holding it away from her mouth with one hand. With the other hand, she rubbed the girl's back.

Shimako's eyes were wide with fear. For half a second, she glanced at Sei, off to her side, and then a vile, horrid retch racked her body, and she contorted, bent even further, and heaved into the toilet. Her eyes stayed shut after that.

It was over in a few minutes. Shimako heaved three more times, and in between each, Sei flushed the toilet and used her handkerchief to wipe Shimako's brow, which was coated in sweat each time.

After that, it was just Shimako breathing hard—panting, really—and Sei rubbing her back, still holding her hair back, for some reason.

"Got it all out of there?" Sei asked after a period that could have been a few minutes or more than an hour.

Shimako nodded, her eyes still squeezed shut, and Sei moved her head out of the way and shut the lid, and gave the toilet one last mercy flush. After the water had stopped circulating, she stood up and took Shimako's hand and led her out of the bathroom, back into the main room, and sat her down on the bed, and then stood in front of her. The girl seemed to have picked up an unhealthy curve to her spine.

"Are you feeling better?" Sei asked.

Shimako nodded, looking subdued, not looking at Sei.

Sei sighed, and then sat down next to her, not close enough to touch. "Shimako, what were you doing? I don't think I need to tell you this, but you're not even really supposed to be drinking. Sila and all that."

Shimako shook her head. "Nothing is set in stone."

"How about this, then," Sei said. "How much do you weigh?"

Shimako looked up this time, though not at Sei. She didn't look troubled, just confused. She answered honestly, though: "About forty five."

"You weigh about as much as my torso," Sei said, privately wondering how truthful she was being. "How much did you have?"

"I don't…really know," Shimako said honestly, her words not slurred, but certainly moving out of her mouth more slowly even than usual.

"Usually, that's bad. If this is your first time at it, a small person like you shouldn't be drinking more than they can count." _It's a wonder she didn't pass out._

"It's not that," Shimako said. "I just…never really paid attention. I didn't mean to. Whenever I thought about…it," at this, Sei took another little hit in the gut, "I took another sip, and then somewhere along the line, somebody gave me a refill, and I wasn't paying attention."

"So you didn't stop because you never dried up."_ Yoshino should have known better. I should have known better than to give Yoshino a damn bottle._

"Because I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Sei leaned back on the bed, stared at the ceiling. "Do you want me to tell you I'm sorry?"

Shimako shook her head. Sei saw it out of the corner of her eye.

"That would be dishonest," Shimako said.

"No, it wouldn't."

"Then it would be too hard to hear."

"You're a tough girl. I'm the one who's not tough."

_That was cold. What the hell is wrong with you? She's obviously still shaken._

_(if i say anything else shell get the)_

_right_

_(wrong impression)_

"Please don't tell me that. It's not true."

_Why? I don't understand it. Why would she just…do that all of a sudden? _

_(because you're as blind as a bat)_

_(blind as a sei the metaphor only works if you pick somebody everyone can apply it to)_

"You should get some sleep, Shimako. I can sleep on the floor."

Shimako shook her head.

"You've got to be sleepy. Somebody else might not have considered it a lot, but for you, there's a lot of alcohol sitting around in your body, even after that."

"Please don't talk about that."

"Are you feeling sick again?"

"Would you come with me if I was?"

"Yes."

"I'm not."

"That's good."

Silence. Then, Shimako said, "For a minute, I thought I was going to die. I've never felt like that before."

Sei felt something blocking her throat. "Me too. I was…scared."

"Were you?"

"Yes."

"That's good."

"Hey now," Sei said in spite of herself. "I really was scared. I hadn't even seen how damn much beer you had put away. If I'd had any idea that Yoshino was doing that to you I'd have lopped her off at the ears."

"I did it to me."

"Did you want to?"

"Yes. It felt good. I'm not supposed to do it, but it was better than thinking. My father will scold me."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Probably."

"Which part?"

Shimako looked at Sei, her face clouded. "Which part should I tell him?"

It certainly wasn't what she said, but the look on her face broke Sei's resistance.

_(don't you'll give her the wrong idea)  
You can take your ideas and shove them up your sorry ass.  
(do you really want to let her in)  
Yes. I don't know why, and I don't know if I can handle it, but I overestimated this girl. Maybe I just didn't know it about her; that she was like the rest of us, that she had a limit somewhere. She's a tough girl, and nobody doesn't know that. When I walked with her that day, hand-in-hand, I had thought that she was just sad because I was leaving, but it wasn't just that, was it?  
Damn it all, I'm a lousy sister sometimes._

Sei stood, moved closer to Shimako, and sat again. This time, they did touch; Sei pulled her in, and Shimako laid down so that her head rested on Sei's lap. From above, Sei could see only her profile, all graceful lines and thick, rich hair.

_She really is beautiful, isn't she._

_Huh._

"You were scared too, weren't you?" Sei began to gently stroke the girl's hair.

"Yes. I didn't want…it was hard when you left Lillian."

"You got by okay."

"I know I did, but that doesn't mean it wasn't hard. I can deal with it. With distance between us. But with this…I felt like it put up a wall, and that was worse than all the distance in the world. I don't know how well I would be able to deal with that. I don't think it was very well at all."

"You've never needed me to help you get through things."

"You've never seen how you help me when you do. Neither have Yumi or any of the others. Nobody can do it by themselves, _Onee-sama_."

_She's right, you twit. You give her her space because it's what she seems to want and what you're inherently comfortable with, but you can't lie and say that that night, when you offered her chocolate and took her hand instead, that it didn't feel nice. She cried because she was going to miss you, and only Yumi and Shiori did that before her._

_That feels nice, doesn't it? To know people care about you. Even if you know it, when they show it, it feels nice._

_Yeah._

"Shimako," Sei said, her throat a little tight. "If you want to, you can try again with…you know."

"I don't feel like it right now," Shimako said.

Sei felt something fade in her. "I'm sorry."

"Please don't misunderstand, _Onee-sama,_" Shimako said, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, that old playfulness, so gentle and subtle that you barely knew it was there, entered her voice. "My mouth still tastes foul and I'm sure my breath is the same way, and right now, I'd really just like to sleep. But maybe…"

"Later."

"After I've brushed my teeth several times."

"I don't know if it's a good idea."

"You're also drunk, and I'm not steady on my feet either, though I've sobered since…you know. Maybe that's the other reason. Let's wait. For a while."

"Sure," Sei said.

_You're making a mistake, Sei._

_Maybe. Maybe not._

_The real mistake was how quickly you said _no, _though. As though you hadn't even thought about it. As though it was the only thing you _could _say. Being surprised and skeptical at the sudden, unspoken admission about her sexuality was a shitty, shitty way to justify it to yourself. _

"Thank you," Shimako murmured, and then, a second later, she dropped off into sleep, as though she had just been waiting for that. A minute later, Sei finally felt the tug of the alcohol and exhaustion at her, and then she was asleep too.

This was probably the first time in many years that either of them went to sleep without brushing their hair or their teeth, or putting on some sort of nightgown to avoid wrinkling their clothes.

Maybe that was why doing it together for the first time was all the more special.

* * *

**Four**

* * *

Sachiko could not help but snort out a giggle when Yumi knocked into the door she was supposed to be opening and said, much louder than she needed to, "Where'd that door come from? It popped into me out of nowhere!"

"It was always there, Yumi," Sachiko said through a giggle. "The way it is, you're too stubborn to face how solid it is, is what it is."

"I'm pretty sure that's two too many _is_'s is what that is, _Onee-sama_," Yumi said, fumbling the keycard out of her pocket.

"I'm quite certain I know how many _is_'s are appropriate," Sachiko said. "I know how much everything is appropriate for everywhere…ever…here." She frowned. "Definitely."

"You're always _so _appropriate, _Onee-sama,_" Yumi agreed.

_Well, you didn't have to be so honest about it, _Sachiko thought.

"Always?" Sachiko said. A moment later, Yumi realized that she was inserting the keycard upside down into the slot, flipped it, and started trying to open the door again.

"Always," Yumi said. "Like, even when your insides are spilling out your appropriates you're outside. No, hold on." A click, and Yumi thrust the door open with a bit too much force, nearly toppled inside. "Darn," she murmured as she caught herself. "I think I had too much."

"Is that your first time doing this? No, hold on," Sachiko echoed.

"No, I've drunk before, but I only did it this much once before."

"When?"

"It was this much, you know?" Yumi stretched her arms out, showing Sachiko how tall her glass had apparently been—nearly as tall as Yumi herself.

"But _when_?" Sachiko giggled. Somewhere deep underneath the haze that encompassed most of her brain, she thought, _what are you doing? Get hold of yourself, woman, you're acting like an idiot._

_No, _she argued, you're _acting like an idiot. I'm acting like a Sachiko._

_You're not acting like an Ogasawara. _

_But I'm a Sachiko. So that doesn't make any sense._

"Oh boy, it must have been…two years ago? Mostly I drink with my brother or Yoshino, only a can or something." The door shut behind Sachiko, and Yumi flopped down on the bed—there was only one of them, _because apparently this hotel is all about being that comfortable with whoever you were rooming with. _

_That doesn't make any sense._

_Neither do you. _

To Sachiko, it seemed a compelling argument.

Sachiko sat down next to her—until the little corner of the bed gave out on her and she fell with a small _thump _to the floor.

Yumi snorted heartily, and Sachiko couldn't help but erupt in giggles with her. "This is so stupid," Sachiko said. "If my mother saw me like this I think she might die."

"She'd be glad you're giggling like a stupid," Yumi said.

"_That's _a stupid," Sachiko countered. "I'm not acting like a proper Lady. Lay-dee."

"But you're more than that," Yumi said. "You're a Sachiko, right?"

Somehow, it all seemed so simple. "If only," Sachiko said, and then, all at once, she began to sniffle.

Yumi dropped down beside her and immediately grabbed her around the shoulders. "_Onee-sama_? What's the matter?"

"I have no idea," Sachiko admitted as tears began to well in her eyes. "Just that the thought of you saying that makes me very happy."

"Saying _what's the matter?_"

"No. That other thing. About me being a Sachiko." Tears began to creep their way down Sachiko's face.

"That's silly, though," Yumi said, hugging her tighter. "What else would you be?"

"A fake," Sachiko whispered.

"I don't think you are."

And Yumi was being completely, utterly honest. Even through her drunken haze, Sachiko could see that.

"Being a Lady isn't easy," Sachiko said.

"No," Yumi agreed, strangely serious in spite of her earlier playful, tipsy attitude. "It's not. You should be a Sachiko instead."

That seemed, for some reason, impossibly philosophical to Sachiko.

_I must have been a monk in my past life._

"Why is that?" Yumi asked.

"What?"

"You said you must have been…um." Yumi frowned. "Forgot. Hey, you stopped crying."

"I said that?" _I did?_

"Mmm." Yumi laid her head down on Sachiko's shoulder. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you say that, silly." Yumi snorted again—had she ever been serious? Had Sachiko just imagined that? She began stroking the girl's hair, finding it almost unbelievably soft, though she realized in the little rational part of her mind that never left her, even after a long round of drinking, that she was exaggerating.

Normally, she probably wouldn't have said anything. She might have wanted to, but her pride would never allow her to say such an honest, dangerous thing.

But now…

"I said that because I got a beautiful_ petite sher…s…souer…sour…"_ Sachiko frowned, stumbling over the word.

"_Soeur_."

"That. I got a beautiful _petite soeur _who can defeat everything my stupid, stupid self throws at her without even breaking a sweat."

"Ladies don't sweat, _Onee-sama. _You ought to know that."

Sachiko cracked up. For some reason, that was just too much; not simply giggling, but out-and-out laughter, hearty and honest, in a way that she couldn't remember doing before. Yumi joined her, and after a while, they just dropped to lay down on the floor, facing each other. Since they hadn't turned the lights on when they entered, Sachiko couldn't see the girl particularly well, though the moon reflected the light off of the water into their room fairly well.

"The bed seems like the more appropriate choice for laying," Sachiko said, and then stood—with some difficulty—and dropped down onto the bed. A few seconds later, Yumi followed.

Now, her face was fully illuminated, slack and unconcerned, her eyes closed.

"Shall we go to sleep, Yumi?"

Yumi nodded, not opening her eyes. "Good night, _Onee-sama._" A moment later, she opened her eyes. "Pajamas."

Sachiko nodded.

It was in this way that Sachiko saw Yumi fully nude for the second time. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe something  
_(the mood)_  
else, but whatever the case, Yumi changed, only half-turning away, perhaps too tired or too drunk or too something else, in front of Sachiko, who did not look away.

Who couldn't help but watch Yumi's slim, pale body shine in the moonlight.

Who couldn't help but feel.

"What did I just do?" Sachiko murmured as Yumi crawled back in bed.

"You didn't change into your own pajamas," Yumi said. She opened her eyes then and looked into Sachiko's, and her own became a little wider.

With comprehension, maybe. With understanding.

With _(agreement)._

Her voice became lower, throatier.

"Your turn," she said.

Sachiko had never undressed in front of somebody before, but that didn't make it hard. In fact, nothing was hard now—she did what she wanted first, without thinking about it, and it was wonderful in that way.

She turned herself away from Yumi only half-way as well, not looking at anything as she changed, quickly, in about the same way as she always did. Only the confidence of routine kept her from tripping over her nightgown as she put it on. She tried not to think about it. Tried hard.

_(the way the moonlight played over her collarbone will it do that for me)  
(I looked at her breasts is that where her eyes are is she even looking)  
(what is she thinking)  
(is she asleep)_

"You're…very beautiful, _Onee-sama._" Yumi's voice seemed to come out of the dark itself, if only because Sachiko did not look at her. She could not remember precisely in what state of dress she was in when the girl said it.

Maybe it was when she was fully clothed.

Maybe that made it all the sweeter.

Maybe it was when she was fully naked.

Maybe that made it all the more lustful.

Sachiko sat down on the bed next to Yumi, who sat up.

"You're very beautiful, Yumi," Sachiko echoed. She did that often, and she realized this now.

And really, there was one important thing you did with beautiful girls, right?

_Yeah. _

Who started moving first was unclear. Maybe both of them had the same thought at the same time. It wouldn't have been the first instance.

Sachiko's hand came up and touched Yumi's cheek. Yumi's hand touched the side of Sachiko's neck, her palm touching her collarbone, stroking with her thumb. It felt  
_(she did see)_  
nice.

Yumi's breath felt hot on Sachiko's face. It smelled of alcohol and nerves.

Sachiko wondered what her own breath smelled of. It must have been identical.

_(this can't be proper)  
(can't be right)  
(can't be anything)_

At one time, that thought alone would have pervaded Sachiko, stopped her before she had even started.

Now, it didn't even slow her. She was drunk, and it seemed like her inhibitions (and very possibly her common sense) were a distant memory, an annoying fly at her ear.

The first thing that Sachiko found was that Yumi's lips were very soft.

The second thing that she found was that Yumi was nowhere near as shy as she seemed. Yumi's other arm curled around Sachiko's head, her hand on her hair, drew her near, so that their bodies touched.

_(what am I doing)  
(kissing your _petite soeur_)  
(why)  
(because you love her)  
(not like that I don't. I can't. I'm to be married to Suguru I can't do this this is not right at all)  
(then what are you doing)_

Sachiko didn't stop.

They parted after a time. Yumi looked Sachiko in the eye. Sachiko saw something like fear, and she smiled and stroked the girl's face, and then lay down. Yumi lay down next to her.

"What now?" Yumi whispered.

Sachiko drew her close.

"Sleep," she murmured.

"I love you," Yumi whispered.

"And I," Sachiko returned. It seemed like the simplest thing in the world just then. "Love you. We can sort this out tomorrow morning." That she was drunk then never occurred to her.

As it was, though, alcohol was a cruel master, with its hand in everything from memory to behavior.

Nothing was ever that simple.

--

As always, thanks for reading! If you liked it, or if you didn't, drop me a review and tell me about it.

If you're thinking this is sudden or convenient, or an early resolution to a problem, reread the last two sentences and think again. I'm nowhere near that gentle-hearted.


	16. 14: Brainstorm, Part One

Author's notes

My knowledge of pro soccer is limited, so I apologize if I make a fool of myself when I talk about it. Feel free to shoot me a PM if you spot something blatantly ridiculous.

At the time of this writing, I have just finished watching Marimite OVA 5. God help me, I giggled like a little girl. I wish I was lying, honest I do. Go get it.

In Japan, there are many hotels whose toilets are western-style. The girls are staying at one of them.

I have to apologize for the…3 month delay. About half of this has been done for about a month, and then school took over. I'm a 3rd year engineering student at this point—it's getting pretty intense.

* * *

_If you're ever lost, there's work to do._

* * *

Chapter 14  
Brainstorm  
(First part: With the lights out, it's less dangerous.)

* * *

**One**  
_All of these years I've been wondering around; wondering how come nobody told me…_

* * *

For a second, Sachiko wasn't sure where she was.

Scratch that. Sachiko wasn't quite sure of anything for a second. She felt as though she might be floating, but rationalized that that ought to be impossible. She felt as though something was hitting her head, but heard no impact. It was entirely possible that she didn't even have ears. Her eyes weren't working, either. She opened them and saw a thin blackness which seemed to promise light if one could only move past it, through it; if one could only do the impossible. Was that really impossible? Nothing was certain. It made Sachiko feel considerably less insecure than it ought to have.

The only thing that was entirely certain was the pain. She had felt as though somebody was hitting her head because of the thumping, constant pain underneath her forehead.

"_The only certain thing is the pain." Isn't that a little melodramatic? _Sachiko thought, sleepily bemused. _After all, I'm quite certain that I'm warm. I'm quite certain that I'm laying next to a heater, in fact. It's a hot summer, but it's really quite pleasant on top of the air conditioning. It doesn't balance out the pain in my head, but it certainly helps._

_See? Right there, I've become certain of two other things. I'm in a room, because I can feel the air conditioning circulating through the room, and I'm laying next to a heater. I bet I could even feel it if I tried. _

Sachiko was suddenly struck with the strange idea that if she could, in fact, touch the heater, she might be able to move past the thin blackness above her. Presuming anything _was_ above it in whatever room she was in. Beyond the first, thin blackness could just be another blackness, thicker this time, more impenetrable. Maybe beyond this blackness, her head didn't even hurt. That would be nice. Unlikely, but nice.

The first thing was to locate her hand. Easy; it was still attached to her body. That was good. Another thing certain; she was not floating, ephemerally, above herself. _This whole thing, in fact, seems quite ridiculous. Why don't I just reach out and touch—_

And then she stopped thinking and froze, because as she considered this, she _did _reach out and touch the heater, which was, in fact, nothing of the sort, unless the new trend in heaters was to build them fleshy.

The night before came rushing back to her in a broken torrent of half-convoluted images, like watching an unfocused, muted film that one kept nodding off in the middle of. It was hard to track, especially so since somebody kept knocking what was behind her forehead around like a soccer ball.

A pass to midfield.  
_Sachiko begins to drink, and then_  
a feint left, dribble forward  
_Yumi points at her nose as though she has something on it, and when she tries to brush it off her nose goes all crooked and Yumi snorts a laugh and then_  
a steal, suddenly driving the way it came  
_Rei and Sei are ushering them out of the room, telling them something about partners and problems—boy, if I had a nickel for every one of those—partners, not problems—somebody says, and it might be Sachiko but it might not, but Sachiko laughs anyway, it feels so damn good to just laugh and_  
a slide which is very nearly suicidal and very nearly red-carded but in the end neither, and then it's going the other way again  
_then Yumi is sliding out of her bra in the moonlight_  
the way the ball is dribbled past the defense is nothing short of genius and  
_then Sachiko is slipping out of her shirt in the moonlight_  
suddenly there's nobody left between the ball and the goalie who possibly for the first time in his life feels a trickle of fear in his gut, wondering if maybe missing this isn't the worst thing that could happen to him, but rather catching it is because it may just kill him  
_and Yumi's lips. _

Goal. And by golly if the goalie's shorts ain't wet.

Sachiko had thought she had kissed people before. She had certainly given her share of theatrical kisses to Suguru when everybody was looking, and once when  
_not thinking about that_  
they weren't. She thought she had kissed before, _really _kissed, but she was wrong, and her throbbing, muddled head still could not comprehend the scale on which she was wrong. She wasn't really, wholly sure how to react to it, therefore.

Embarrassment? If there was one thing a Lady should never show, it was embarrassment. Embarrassment was an admission of guilt, and while nobody ought to be accusing a Lady in the first place, if they did, the last thing that Lady did was admit to it by blushing. Such things were best saved for private encounters with men who liked their girls innocent and stupid—and one should only be having such encounters with one man: The husband.

Happiness?_About kissing your petite soeur? Are you out of your mind?_

_Why not?_

_You_are _out of your mind._

Fear?

That one seemed appropriate.

No, that one seemed likely. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Yumi stirred next to her.

Yes, fear seemed entirely likely. The next thing to squirm through her slushy brain was simple enough to be repeated over and over again without much pain: _Does she remember?_

Yumi's voice. "_Onee-sam—_owowowow…"

For a moment, Sachiko could not speak. And then, much more groggily than she had intended: "Are you awake then, Yumi?" More groggily, and sharper. Harsher.

"Yes,_Onee-sama_." If Yumi noticed, she didn't show it. If Yumi felt anywhere near like Sachiko did, she was probably too busy watching a play-by-play of a basketball game in her head to notice. "My head…hurts."

"I'm afraid mine does too. I suppose we must have had too much to drink last night, and now we're paying our rightful due." _Amazing. Even with a hangover the size of Honshu, you can still wax irritable._

"Should we get out of bed?"

"I suppose."

And then, something strange happened: Sachiko tried to get out of the bed, which was comfortable and warm; she tried to greet the day the same way she always did, with a sense of grim determination that she showed to nobody.

But unlike most days, she failed. That small thing inside of her that always pushed her, refused to let her flag or rest, even for a moment; that thing that had failed only once or twice before today, failed. She tried to push herself out of bed, moved a couple of inches, gave up. She tried to roll, made it halfway, found herself on her face. Gave up. She tried simply willing the bed to roll out from under her. It mocked her, unmoving. Gave up.

"Yumi, are you having trouble getting out of bed?"

"Mmm," Yumi replied.

"I think we're stuck."

"I do, too."

For some reason, this was unbearably funny, and they laughed a few moments before the pain in their heads forced them to squeeze their eyes shut and hide under the covers. There, they found each other again.

Though Sachiko was only able to open her eyes about halfway without splitting her temples open, she looked at Yumi hard, trying to gauge whether or not the other girl remembered anything about the night before. If she did, she was hiding it well.

"Good morning, _Onee-sama_," Yumi said half-brightly.

The most Sachiko could manage was a half-smile. Perhaps it could be just a half-day, and the two of them could go back to bed after six hours or so.

Then the door began to thump, and Sachiko had a strange, off-kilter thought: _I wonder if the door is soundproof? _

A moment later, the painfully cheerful voice of Satou Sei came through the door, as unfettered as if she had been standing right next to them. "Wake up, kids. Can't sleep all day, can you?"

"_I_ could, if you left us alone," Yumi called back, and Sei laughed. The noise hurt Sachiko's head.

"That'll never happen and you know it. You've got about ten seconds to get out of bed or else I'm coming in there."

"The door's locked."

"I pilfered one of your keys last night."

Yumi's eyes went briefly wide, and Sachiko was sure the shock showed on her face as well; she wasn't quite ready to put on her face that day. Not quite yet.

"You're lying," Yumi called back. "Aren't you?"

"Am I?"

Yumi looked at Sachiko, asking silently, _do you have your key? _

Sachiko had no idea. After a moment, Yumi caught onto this, and whispered, "The only way to know is if we get out and check."

"That would give Sei an unbearable victory," Sachiko whispered back, and Yumi nodded.

"I'll be very quiet. She won't hear," Yumi assured her.

Something about this seemed not-quite-right to Sachiko, who acquiesced, regardless, with a nod. A moment later, Yumi was very clumsily making for the edge of the sheets. Sachiko closed her eyes again and, for good measure, covered them with her hand, a move brought on not so much by fear as by the light let into her sanctuary by Yumi as she adjusted the covers, trying to escape.

A moment later she heard the distinct sound of something sliding, a brief squeal of surprise, and a thump. Yumi groaned pathetically, and Sachiko sighed in defeat.

A moment later, Sei laughed again. "Got you," she said. "May as well get up now, huh?"

Another voice from outside, very distinctly Rei's: "Sei, let them be. Yoshino wanted to lie down, so they can sleep for another hour or so."

"You're ruining my fun so early, Rei?"

"It's nearly ten."

"That's early enough."

"Let them be, Sei. Remember the first time you got drunk?"

"No, and I think that's the point." A moment of silence, and then, "Fine, fine. I'll be back, you two."

The sound of retreating footsteps.

Silence. Blessed silence. A wave of peace washed over Sachiko, relative though it was. (The soccer match in her head was, after all, far from over; it seemed the goalie had changed his shorts and was ready for another round.) She laid like that, her hands over her eyes, buried in the covers, for a period of time she was never quite able to track—it felt like a long time, but the sun, so far as she could tell, had not changed positions when she finally did get up.

After a bit of this strange, flexible time had passed, she heard movement in the room, and a moment later, a gentle hand touched her side.

"_Onee-sama_," Yumi's voice murmured, "we should get up."

"Do…"_do we have to? Pretend for a moment that you're older than seven, Sachiko. _"Yes. You're right. Of course." Sachiko rolled over, an act which churned her stomach just a little.

Yumi said, "Don't be alarmed, _Onee-sama_. I'm going to pull the sheet back slowly."

"Must you?" Sachiko's tone sounded more like a whine than she would have wanted, but she supposed that was the thing about whining; one could rarely help it.

"I can't very well let you take it to the restroom while you brush your teeth," Yumi said patiently. "I imagine it would be rather difficult to get at your mouth."

Sachiko giggled in spite of herself, but a moment later, had a thought which squashed any urge to smile: _Yumi is _handling _me, isn't she? _

_Sometimes, people must be handled. Didn't they teach you that?_

_Difficult people._

Her train of thought was interrupted as a small sun rose in her field of view, going from dark to blindingly white in the span of a second. Done slowly or not, crossing the threshold of light to dark was almost unbearable to Sachiko as her head seemed to try to burst from the inside.

And then her stomach churned, and then it kicked. Familiar. Too familiar.

Sachiko's eyes widened and her hand went to cover her mouth, and her mind blanked except for a single, pervasive command,

_GET OFF OF THE BED YOU'LL RUIN IT_

which she was powerless to resist as she scrambled blindly, fumbling over herself trying to get off of the faux-silk sheets with only one hand and the kind of white panic that accompanies the sick churn of a violent stomach. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she was certain she must look wholly foolish, but that single, undeniable command

_GET OFF THE BED YOU'LL RUIN IT_

said nothing about grace. Only

_GET OFF THE BED YOU'LL RUIN IT._

She made it to toilet and threw the seat up, her hair in her face, smelling of sweat and beer, her eyes stinging, her gullet working violently, and heaved, dry, once; twice; and then she heaved whatever was in her stomach—very little, it seemed—into the toilet. Her stomach settled only just, and then a hand was there, pulling her hair out of her face, gently as it could, perhaps, but still roughly, focused on getting all of it. A moment later, her stomach lurched, and she vomited stomach acid, and then her stomach was calm. Her throat burned, the stench from the toilet was positively vile, and her head swam, but her stomach settled, and her headache began to retreat.

A small, pale hand reached from behind her and flushed the toilet. It left a residue on the handle that Sachiko had to turn away from, but the sudden rush of cool water beneath her was relieving all the same.

A rustle, and then a handkerchief in her peripheral vision.

"Please use this, _onee-sama_," Yumi said, and the sound of her voice brought the world back into focus.

Sachiko turned to look at the handkerchief for a moment, tentatively. It was white, with a heart in the corner; nothing overly complicated, but not bare, either. It was Yumi's, after all.

"I couldn't ruin your handkerchief."

"You won't. Promise." Sachiko could hear the smile in Yumi's voice.

Sachiko took the handkerchief and used it to dab at her mouth. It came away a shade of yellow that made Sachiko want to look away. She folded it neatly and set it on top of the toilet. "You can let go of my hair now, Yumi."

"You'll ruin your nightgown."

"I won't. Promise." Sachiko thought that echoing Yumi's obviously flawless argument might be enough.

"You will," Yumi said. "If I can use a towel, I can cover your hair long enough to get you out of it and into the shower without ruining anything."

A dozen counter-arguments popped into Sachiko's head, which was working just well enough to recognize that none of them made a lick of sense. She blinked, and the world seemed to flash white as her eyes closed. She blinked again and the world behaved itself. A good start.

"_Onee-sama_…" Yumi sounded tentative, a little unsure for the first time all morning. It was almost strange, though it was more her norm. "Do you think you could…grab the towel? My hands are—er—stuck here."

"Stuck?" This made no sense. Did her vomit have some sort of strange adhesive property? Had she eaten glue?

"If I let go, that ruins the point."

Another clever argument. "I'll stand up slowly." _We've seen where_slowly _gets us already. Just do it, like a band-aid._

_I think I might fall if I did that._

She stood, and walked slowly to the towel rack. Yumi followed in easy step with her. Yumi seemed to be taking to the morning much more quickly than she was—wasn't this her first time drinking? It couldn't be.

_Why not?_

Because it was Sachiko's first time drinking so heavily.

_And so?_

And so…

_That would make you a step behind, is that it? _The sharp voice of her manners coach: _My dear, that is where you have been your whole life. That's where _all _Ladies walk. It's nothing to be ashamed of._

_…_Was it?

Sachiko grabbed the towel, now in reach, and passed it to Yumi, who used it to wrap Sachiko's hair. After she had done this, without warning, she began tugging at Sachiko's nightgown.

Sachiko's reaction was less startled than it ought to have been. In fact, the first thing that came to her mind seemed to make absolutely no sense:_If you want to do it here, may I at least clean my hair first?_

As Sachiko clumsily moved her arms up, with this one thought in mind (possibly all her mind could handle at this point) she began to laugh. Politely, at first—truly a reflex for her at all times but her most inebriated— quiet and virtually motionless, only a small smile on her face to show that she was, in fact, amused. But as she struggled to keep her hair in the towel as Yumi struggled to move the nightgown over her head—_If you want to do it here, may I at least clean my hair first?—_and past Sachiko's extended arm, far too long to make such an operation graceful at a hungover ten o'clock, she began to laugh.

"What is it, _onee-sama_?"

At first, Sachiko wasn't even sure if she could say it aloud. When she opened her mouth to try, though, it was easier than she'd expected. "If you want to do it here, may I at least clean my hair first?"

As she said this, the nightgown dropped. She began sliding it off her other arm, letting her hair drop again—certainly disgusting, but she thought she might be able to handle it for the half-minute before she got into the shower if it meant letting that arm rest. Yumi was silent throughout, and as the nightgown finally fell to the floor in a heap, Sachiko's smile faded.

Sachiko turned around to face Yumi, entirely naked in front of the girl for the second time in less than twelve hours. Yumi's face was wholly serious, a combination of fear and…_and what?_

"I suppose," Sachiko murmured, "That it was more amusing in my head."

_How much of last night does she remember?_

And then, almost thirty seconds late but acting as though the time gap didn't exist, Yumi smiled, big and confined to the lower half of her face, and said, "That's funny."

Sachiko looked at Yumi for a moment, and then something basic and uncontrollable inside of her rebelled and she said, "If you don't mind, I think I'll shower first."

"Please do," Yumi said, and then, with a look at Sachiko which lasted a good ten seconds, and went to the sink, washed her hands, and left the room.

_I think, maybe, quite a bit._

Doing her best to put it out of her mind, Sachiko stepped into the shower and turned the water on. The water was soothing, but the thought never left.


	17. 14: Brainstorm, Part Two

(Second part: A ragged teddy bear)

* * *

**Two**  
_I've got a feeling I think that everybody knows_**  
**

* * *

Though it was hard to tell by looking at her, speaking to her, or, perhaps, doing things with her that might make a nun blush, Sei Satou was somebody for whom an ideal relationship was both loving and committed. Her roommate at Lillian University had once asked her why this was, when it was so much more convenient, and frankly, fun to steer clear of staunch commitment in favor of casual dating, and indeed, casual sex, and this is how she responded:

_Your lover walks through the door of the home which one, or perhaps both, of you have paid for and maintained with your sweat, blood, and ass-kissing. There is something off in the person's step, in the way they open the door and let it close behind them rather than shutting it quietly like a Lady ought, but you're not somebody who likes long-term relationships, so the two of you have only been dating for about two weeks. Why she's coming to your house after a long, hard day at work is maybe beyond you, or maybe it's not, because you called her over. But whatever the case, you don't notice that extra _thump _when she slides off her shoes, forgetting to tap them clean. You only notice the way her hips sway as she walks in, how nice her thighs look in her high-cut skirt. Your mind follows the sway of her hips and the line of her thighs and before long, it's in the gutter, where you're hoping to be in about half an hour, and so you rise to greet her, move to give her a kiss that would make God take a second look, and she pecks you on the lips and goes to sit down on the couch. Her face looks normal, maybe a little more drawn than usual, but you don't see anything wrong. _

_No sex for you that day, then, is there? In life, we find ourselves coming home in just that state more often than not, I think, and I don't think many girls would want to have sex with somebody who doesn't catch the little look that says, _my day sucked dirt, and yours?

As the door to Yumi's room closed behind her, Sei heard the distinct sound of the shower running and frowned. She watched Yumi as the girl let the door shut behind her, rather than shutting it herself. She noticed that Yumi wasn't wearing shoes, or even socks.

And she saw the look on Yumi's face. Not_ sad_, not quite. Just…wrong. Neutral, overly so for somebody whose feelings were usually on her face, clearer than day.

_Pensive. That's it. _

She saw this, and knew it was _wrong_. And that, somehow, seemed to justify her entire viewpoint on love and relationships in a single instant.

She had been standing in the hall when Yumi exited her room—waiting outside her own for Shimako, who had kicked her out while she changed, something which baffled and bothered Sei at once, but which she accepted with a sigh and a shrug nonetheless (though she had since been idly pondering sneaking a glimpse under an inevitably shaky pretense)—and decided in an instant that she could wait to see just what her _petite soeur _had to be shy about.

"Hey, Yumi," she said, starting to walk towards the girl.

"Oh." Yumi said, and then blinked, and shook her head, as though in a double-take (though Sei could see that it was most plainly not). "Oh!" With more feeling this time. "Hi, Sei."

"I got you out of bed, did I?"

"I guess you did." Yumi wrinkled her nose, and Sei grinned.

"Hangover?"

Yumi paused for a minute, and then let her voice slump like her shoulders undoubtedly wanted to. "You can tell?" She sounded relieved to be able to relax.

"Sort of. You had a lot to drink—I'd have been surprised if you hadn't had one. You seem remarkably well, though."

Yumi attempted a smile. "Well, I'm doing my best."

"But your head feels like a packed soccer stadium."

She let her attempt drop. Again, relief. "Yeah."

Sei spotted it. _That's what's wrong. She's trying to fake a perky attitude, which she's not suited for, and usually doesn't bother to attempt; that sounds more like Sachiko's field. Why is she doing that? _

"It's all right to let yourself look like you feel," Sei said with a grin, and Yumi laughed openly, which made Sei grin wider.

"I can't quite go _that _far. I think that might make _onee-sama_scream in terror."

Sei couldn't think of what to say to that, so she laughed with Yumi. When they stopped, they shared a brief silence which Yumi seemed to savor—probably the noise still hurt her head.

_Why is she doing that?_

_Why don't you ask her? _The prospect was, in a way that Sei could not quite comprehend, frightening. Even thinking about how she might phrase such a question made her stomach twist just slightly. Not enough to really make her feel ill, nor enough to stop her were she honestly determined, but she wasn't, and that was the problem: Part of her honestly didn't want to ask. She felt as though the answer might be something so final that…

_That what?_

_Just… final._

_Coward._

_We all are. In our own ways, we all are._

"Sei?"

"Hmm?"

Yumi hesitated. "I…if I tell you something, can you not tell anybody? Especially Rei or Yoshino?"

"Why not them?"

"Just…don't."

Sei frowned. "Sure." Her stomach twisted again. That little, tingling fear. Fear of the final. _Maybe that's one of the ways I'm a hypocrite. I don't profess to be afraid of the _final, _of the committed, of the permanent, but that's only when it goes _my_way. _

She didn't even notice that she was holding her breath, just a little.

"_Onee-sama_threw up again this morning."

She exhaled and the knot in her stomach untwisted instantly. She wanted to laugh and say, _that's it? _but knew that Yumi might never speak to her again if she did. The worry was plain on the girl's face, in such a real and fundamental way that Sei couldn't help but empathize.

"I understand why that worries you, but it's okay. Sometimes hangovers cause nausea, and for a person with as weak a stomach as Sachiko, nausea can lead to vomiting. I'll bet you she felt a whole hell of a lot better after she did it."

Yumi rubbed her hand as though washing it, her face a little unsettled. "I hope so."

"You get some on your hand?"

Yumi jumped slightly and her eyes widened in surprise. It made her look a little less like a zombie and a little more like Yumi. Sei approved of the effect. "How could you tell?"

"Your face, same way I know everything else you're thinking. Also, I'd have to be an idiot not to think that if Sachiko was throwing up, you'd be yanking her hair back so fast you probably took a few hairs with you as souvenirs." As she said this, Yumi's face brightened.

As it fell to silence again, Sei knew there was precisely one more topic for them to discuss before they fell into idle banter—which, in Yumi's condition, would not last long at all. A topic she had to broach, because it, too, was on Yumi's face, which meant it was on Yumi's mind.

And even so, Sei rebelled against it. Fought it internally, considered whether or not choking herself to stave off the inevitable for a few more minutes, or even seconds, would be considered brave or stupid, wondered, briefly, what Shimako was doing in their room.

And finally, gave in.

"And what else is there?"

Yumi looked away. "I always tell myself that you can't read my expressions like you say you can, but I guess I'm just kidding myself."

"It's the burden of being honest. I kind of envy you."

"Hm."

"So?"

Yumi's face looked pained, and she looked up at Sei, who bent down slightly so that she didn't need to.

Silence. After a minute, Sei said, "You might want to speak up soon. Another five minutes like this and I'll probably never stand up straight again."

"It looks kind of creepy," Yumi said sheepishly. Sei grinned, but did not move.

Another few seconds passed. Sei's back was beginning to ache, but her stubbornness did not budge an inch.

"I…" Yumi said at last. "What do you do with a feeling that you've held onto for so long, long enough that it feels almost the same as a teddy bear—something like a wish, only so high up in the sky that even when you're holding it you get this little feeling, like you're fooling yourself, because nobody can hold onto something as high as the moon, even if it looks like you can squeeze it between your fingers…what do you do when that just falls into your lap all of a sudden, without any warning at all?"

And there it was. Finality, so quick and sudden that it was like ripping a off band-aid.

And like ripping off a band-aid, it stung at first, but afterwards, it wasn't too bad. It left a dull ache where it tore some hairs, a little sting to her pride, but it was nowhere near as agonizing as she had been, at some level, hoping for.

Sei stood up straight. Her back gave a little crack as she did.

She took a deep breath. What _did _somebody do when something like that just fell into their lap, instead of...

Instead of what? Working hard for it? Ambiguity aside, Sei thought that perhaps nobody had worked harder for that sort of feeling in all their lives. And really, people might _grow _to love one another, but there was still one specific moment when it just _fell_on the other person: A moment of revelation, perhaps; or perhaps just a drunken _something _(for what, precisely, Sei did not know, and might never know) after a night of fun and beer.

Sei thought that maybe that feeling _falling into Yumi's lap _was the last thing that had happened last night.

"I think that you should thank God for finally rewarding your hard work," Sei said. "Or maybe thank yourself for working so damn hard."

"But what do I _do _with it?"

Sei shrugged. "I think people spend most of their lives trying to figure that out. Take it slow is all I can say. Or if that's too frustrating, take it fast. But…"

"But accept it."

"With open arms and a word of gratitude."

Yumi looked at Sei for a moment longer than was polite at a social function, but a minute or two less than was rude the day after getting drunk in a hotel room.

"That's very scary."

"Tell me about it, sister," Sei said. "My _petite soeur _actually kicked me out of the room to change this morning, which is why I was out here in the first place. She's been in there so long, though, that I think she might be dead."

"Does that scare you?"

"It scared me that she felt the need to kick me out to do it."

"Why?"

_Because I feel like Shimako wouldn't be shy around me without a reason, and that reason is just as scary as your feeling. All of our abstract concepts are biting us in the ass today, I guess. _

Sei thought this, but instead of saying it, she said, "A feeling."

Whether or not this made sense to Yumi, she did not question Sei further.

A few seconds later, Sei's door opened. A voice drifted out like a light breeze: _Onee-sama?_ Sei reacted to it like a dog picking up a new scent: Her head jerked towards her door, and her face screwed up with concentration. A second later, she said, "I think I should go." Yumi nodded, projecting _sage _as best she could, and Sei turned and walked quickly into her room.

And then, the hall was empty, and for a while, Yumi felt that the only things she had were the vague scent of carpet freshener and the dim sound of a vacuum somewhere on the floor below them.

And maybe, for a while, that was true.

After all, what did one do when something that they had held onto like a teddy bear for so long, holding it tight for solace and for fantasy alike, suddenly fell from the sky, and all it was was a drunken kiss and an erotic scene in the dark?

_It was nice, and it was sexy in a way that I never thought it would be—how could I have imagined the way the moonlight would hit her skin, or just how closely I felt my clothes drop off— but it didn't feel…special at all. It might have meant something, but it seems just as likely that it meant nothing at all to her. I can barely pick out two minutes of solid memories from last night. _

_Is this…disappointment? Was I expecting something more out of kissing her; out of _realizing _that maybe there was something more to the two of us? A heart-shaped firework, or a bolt of lightning, maybe? _

_Maybe I was._

If she had asked this of Sei, Sei might have told her, _at the end of every fantasy is disappointment, because compared to the rich, dreamlike fantasies that a single mind can create, real life is bland and colorless. _

As it was, there was one other person in their group who knew that, as little as Yumi wanted to worry them.

Two, if one were to count that ragged teddy bear that Yumi now knew the true shape of for the first time in her life.

* * *

**Three**  
_Everybody had a good year._

* * *

Yoshino Shimazu was doing surprisingly well, considering that her body was still not quite as strong as it should be, and also considering that she was fairly certain that the previous night, she had had enough beer to kill a horse. A small horse, perhaps, but still a horse.

Rei still didn't want her out of bed, but she was about ninety percent certain that this was more because of the fact that Yoshino didn't particularly want herself out of bed, either. She had woken up about an hour and a half earlier, and about halfway through groggily, irritably brushing her teeth, had said something to the effect of _I need to lie down before I fall down, _and then proceeded to flop onto the bed and drop off into sleep within seconds.

The fact was, though, that Yoshino would need to get out of bed soon. They had to check out in another hour or so, and frankly, Rei had a nagging feeling that if they didn't make it to Kyoto soon, they might never make it at all.

And so, after making all of her own preparations—which basically consisted of combing her hair, brushing her teeth, and applying a light base of makeup, and took a grand sum total of twenty minutes, including time spent rummaging around the room aimlessly—Rei set to the Herculean task of rousing Yoshino.

She began cautiously, knowing that Yoshino, when angered by being roused too quickly or roughly, was a formidable opponent. She touched the girl's shoulder lightly, murmuring, "Okay, Yoshino. It's time to wake up."

She received a grunt in response.

Trouble, it sounded like. Rei backed off and tried a different ploy, more passive-aggressive: She opened the curtains, and for good measure, the window.

"Rei," Yoshino mumbled from underneath the covers, "bright."

"It _is_almost half past ten, Yoshino," Rei said.

"Feels like five jackhammers past six in the morning."

"I believe that's your own fault. Do you have any idea how much you had to drink last night?"

"No."

"Exactly."

Yoshino turned over, and Rei grinned when she was sure she wouldn't be seen. The grin was less mischievous than she felt, really, and was largely due to the fascinating way that Yoshino's already-wavy hair seemed to have developed a certain curl to it overnight. It was probably a kink, and she would probably hear grief over it later, but for now, it was really very cute. She sat down on the bed.

"Yoshino, you need to get up now."

"That sounds less like something I need to do than something you need to do," Yoshino grumbled, and Rei laughed, unable to help herself.

"You're very frightening," Rei said gently. "But if you don't get up, you're going to get left behind."

"You wouldn't." It wasn't even an accusation. It was simple fact, and they both knew it. "You're not old enough to be my mother."

"I'd rather not be by the time we get out of here, either."

"Hm."

It was time to bring in the big guns. "Yoshino, it's time. You can sleep in the car, but if you don't get up soon, we'll have to pay extra for the rooms."

"Still have a half hour."

"It's going to take you that long to get your hair straight."

"Don't believe you."

"You would if you looked in the mirror."

It was strange. What they were doing was certainly bickering—there was no more friendly way to describe it, really—but it didn't leave any sort of emotional mark on Rei, and probably didn't leave any on Yoshino, either.

And then, at last, Yoshino sat up and shook her head gently. Rei put a palm on Yoshino's forehead, which was warmer than it ought to have been but not hot enough to be dangerous to her—she would make sure her _petite soeur _got some aspirin in her before they went too far—and Yoshino put her hand over Rei's.

"Your hand is very cool."

Rei simply sat there for a minute, savoring the feeling of Yoshino's skin but not showing it as Yoshino did.

"Rei," Yoshino said finally.

"Yes?"

"Did we do the right thing last night?"

"You mean, did _you _do the right thing?"

Yoshino didn't seem happy with this, but she nodded her acquiesce anyway. "Yeah."

"I don't know. I think so, but I don't think so, too."

"What do you mean?"

Rei gave her a half-grin and sat down next to her. "I mean, I think you helped somebody last night, and whether you ask Jesus or your neighbor, that's always the right thing to do. If anybody needed a chance to stop thinking so hard all the time, it was Sachiko. At the same time…." Rei sighed, and shook her head in the way she often did when she wanted to say, _you'll learn someday, Yoshino, _but didn't want to be shouted at. "At the same time, you drank enough to kill yourself, I think, and if you had had anything more than a light fever this morning I would probably have strangled you."

"Out of worry." In spite of herself and in spite of being told off—in a way—by Rei, Yoshino could not help but smile.

"Out of worry," Rei agreed.

Yoshino leaned her head against Rei's shoulder. It was one of the places she liked best in the world. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"It's fine. I brought along plenty of aspirin."

"Wasn't this supposed to be a spontaneous trip?"

"It was. I always have plenty of aspirin."

Yoshino gave an obligatory sigh and then flopped back onto the bed. To Rei, the sigh may have sounded _don't-mother-me _frustrated.

In truth, Yoshino just didn't want Rei to see her grin about an aspirin collection.

Those were the sorts of things that she held onto by herself. Maybe because she didn't want anybody else to see the shape of them. Maybe because she thought they would not understand—after all, with a shape so ragged, how could they understand what it meant?

That was okay. She understood.

* * *

**Four**  
…_all that I was looking for was somebody who looked like you._

* * *

Half an hour later, all but one of them had gathered in the hallway—Shimako candidly reported to Yumi, upon questioning, that after Sei had come back in, they had "spoken" for about ten minutes, and then Sei had left to go to the front desk. She had not come back yet. Her tone of voice revealed nothing, as was normal for Shimako, but even so, something made Yumi worry. She shelved it in the back of her mind—something she hated doing—promising to return to it when she had the emotional energy to.

Since speaking with Sei, she certainly felt _better_, but, for the first time in a long time, she felt simply…drained. For somebody whose production of energy was typically in the range of_prodigious, _this was a mildly unsettling feeling. She liked to think that by taking a small break from seeing anybody—as she had done after Sei left and she opted to hide out in the hall rather than return to her room and talk to Sachiko as she, presumably, made herself up for the day—she had done a lot of work towards recharging herself, but in truth, it had just made her lonely.

The first two to filter out into the hall were Rei and Yoshino. Yoshino was holding a small, moist handkerchief to her forehead, which didn't surprise Yumi in the least—not after she had been to Italy with Yoshino. If a flight had tired her out enough to make her a bit ill, Yumi didn't want to think about the effect a hangover would have on her.

Shimako had come next, and a minute or two later, Sachiko. She and Yumi had conversed politely, but it had felt a bit…dead. Maybe that was the hangover, but maybe it wasn't, too. Yumi had allowed herself a brief moment to become convinced that it was, indeed, the hangover, before she shoved that, too to the back of her mind. Trains of thought which were distinctly and uniquely negative belonged there. _Bad roads, _her mother had always told her, _are marked clearly enough that anybody who pays attention can see them coming and avoid walking them. _

_I just need time, that's all. That's all. Time to get used to this ragged teddy bear, to understand it, _she had thought.

And then, the worst thing of all: Doubt.

_Should you really have to get used to somebody that you love?_

Sei might have told her.

Sei didn't.

Sei, they found when they entered the lobby, was speaking with Kiyomi and Satoi at a table in the small coffee shop. Yumi couldn't see the proprietors' faces, but she saw one of them holding a handkerchief to her mouth. Sei looked more serious than Yumi had seen her in…maybe ever. More serious, and more gentle.

There was something in that gentleness that called to her. _You won't need to get used to that, _it said. _You can just fall down into it and forget everything._

Yumi did her best to put that away, as well. It was harder.

"Let's wait by the exit," Rei said quietly, startling Yumi, making her jump. "We don't want to distract them."

"What are they talking about?" Yoshino asked, and Rei put her head on the girl's head.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Yoshino frowned.

"Call it laying old demons to rest," Sachiko said. Her voice was raspier than Yumi was used to, and raspier than it had been in the hallway—had something happened, so close under her nose, without her noticing? Instinctively, she moved slightly closer to Sachiko, worry niggling in the back of her head as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I think that would be appropriate."

Rei nodded her agreement. "In any case, it's a private matter, so let's let them be."

_What could it be, though? It looks like they're…crying. It looks like Sei is having a hard time not doing the same, in fact. I don't think I've ever even seen Sei come close to crying. _

Something heavy set gently on Yumi's head, and Sachiko murmured in her ear, "Privacy is something you need for the times when you have to let your guard down."

Yumi understood, and understood more than that, too. Because even though that hand of Sachiko's was heavy, it, too, was gentle.

Maybe that was what being with the people you truly loved was. Maybe that was friendship in a nutshell. Maybe it was none of the millions of convoluted metaphors that would-be philosophers had assigned it over the years; maybe it wasn't companionship or camaraderie, or the feeling of _belonging. _

Maybe it was just something gentle that knew when to leave you alone.

Maybe.

Sei came back to them five minutes later, smiling as wide as she dared without risking exposure of the gentle quiver of her lips. Her face was bright and perky and, to Yumi, obviously fake.

As they went to the front desk to wait for Kiyomi and Satoi to collect themselves, Shimako took Sei's hand, squeezed it once, and then released it. Sei responded by putting a hand on the girl's head for a moment, and then letting it drop again.

Maybe, Yumi thought, that was the form of Sei's teddy bear. A simple touch, and a simple response. _I'm here, you know. Yes, and thank you. _

It was in this manner that they checked out of the hotel, quiet and supportive of those who seemed to need it. After they began to move towards the door, Sachiko lingered for a moment at the desk, and spoke to Kiyomi and Satoi directly.

For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, and then Sachiko spoke, quietly, but without hesitation, as a lady ought to.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" is what she asked.

Kiyomi nodded. "We did. Did you?"

"I think so. I hope so."

She smiled, and then bowed and excused herself.

"Whatever it is, when you do find it," Satoi said, just loud enough to be heard by Sachiko, "don't duck it at the last minute. It becomes far too comfortable sitting on the floor instead of standing up."

Sachiko stopped, and turned her entire body, so that she did not appear to be speaking on an off-note, impolitely. "I know," she said with a smile.

And that was that. And for the first time in many months, the only feeling that Sachiko could find inside of her was optimistic.

Precisely the feeling that Yumi was struggling to find within herself, for the first time in years.

As they loaded into the car, Yoshino said, completely out of the blue, as though acting in Sei's place, "So, Yumi, did Sachiko talk in her sleep?"

Sachiko jerked to a halt, and both Rei and Sei burst into the kind of laughter one only finds in oneself when one cannot quite believe what is being heard.

Yumi blinked twice, floating to the surface of her mind again, where she belonged.

"Now that you mention it," Yumi said, and then a funny memory came to her. "She did." Yumi turned to face Sachiko. "_Onee-sama,_what exactly were you dreaming about, do you remember?"

"What…what was I saying?" Sachiko said hesitantly, almost afraid to hear.

"It was almost frightening," Yumi said. "You kept rolling around, and then you said, _I can't hear you, talk to two by four._ Do you know what that means?"

Sachiko blinked twice, memories of her dream drifting in and out of a place where she could see them—memories of blood and violence—and then her phone began to ring.

Sachiko froze. There was precisely one person that would be calling her at this point.

Sei spoke up, life returning to her in an instant. "Don't answer that," she said. "Give it to me."

Sachiko did as she asked. She was, honestly, terrified of answering it herself.

Sei opened the phone. "Hello?" A moment's pause. "Nope, she's sleeping." A pause. "In a ditch. In the car, where do you think?" Sei grinned while the person on the other end said something, and Yumi and Yoshino held in laughter. "About halfway to Kyoto…Three days, if I feel like it. Whups, sorry, looks like this thing's running out of batteries. Sorry, Kashiwagi, we'll have to chat it up later." With that, Sei shut the phone, and, for good measure, opened the battery case and pulled the battery out, stuffed it in her pocket, and handed the phone back to Sachiko. The verbal sparring with Suguru seemed to have brightened her spirits significantly. "You can have the battery back when we get past Tokyo's city limits." She considered for a second. "Or if we're attacked by highway bandits."

Sachiko had absolutely no idea what to say to this.

And so, even though it was Sei, and even though the idea was absolutely preposterous, she simply nodded. "Fair," she said.

Sei grinned, and the sight of this was refreshing in many ways, to many of the people in the group.

"Then, shall we get our pretty little selves down to Kyoto? I'm still driving, and this time you can't complain, since I'm probably the only one not hung over."

"I'm not hung over," Rei pointed out.

"You're a pansy behind the steering wheel," Sei countered. "I'd like to get to Kyoto this year, thanks."

"I am not!" Rei said. It was as close as Sachiko had ever heard to indignant out of Rei.

"Rei, you _are _the old lady that deliberately drives on one-lane highways just to see how long of a snake's tail she can pick up. You are seventy-five at the age of nineteen." And before Rei could come up with something to say to this, Sei was in the drivers' seat. She had apparently pilfered the keys from Rei at some point, though when, nobody could precisely say.

Maybe it was a testament to Sei's character, or maybe it was simply timing, that it was at precisely the time when everybody filed into the van and nobody was watching her that Sei whispered, _thank you, _her voice barely a whisper.

After all, even Sei couldn't help how she felt sometimes. Even Sei.

Everybody was like that sometimes.

They pulled out of the parking lot and tore off down the highway. One hundred and seventy miles to Kyoto, a sign informed them shortly thereafter.

Sachiko found herself wishing for a power of ten to multiply that by.

She was not the only one.


	18. 15: Fall to Pieces

Author's notes:

Hopefully this comes to you quicker than the last one. Thanks to everybody who waited patiently for the last release. Taking 3 design credits at once is apparently not recommended.

You didn't really think I would take the easy "they kist so itz hot but they dont remember becuz they was drunks and I can keep ritin liek it nevar happened lol!" road, did you?

Don't lie, you always knew that Sei was, at heart, a rock'n'roll queen. She likes her guitars crunchy.

As always, thanks for reading!

Japanese has two syllabic alphabets in addition to Kanji (which is not a syllabic alphabet): hiragana and katakana. Katakana is used to spell out loanwords, typically—words borrowed from another language. Normally if you saw the words _Velvet Rose _written in Japan it would be in katakana.

Edit, 2/10/08: Thanks to Anon for catching my misspelling of the name "Ryuusuke."

* * *

_All alone I fall to pieces._

* * *

Chapter 15  
Fall to pieces

* * *

**One**

* * *

Rei had rather been hoping that the mode of the day would once again be card-playing, but alas, it was futile—less than halfway into their first round of Napoleon, Yoshino declared that even hung over, Sachiko was an invincible opponent, so she would take a nap instead. Others dropped out rather quickly after that, and while it was disappointing, Rei couldn't rightly blame them—trying to take on a brick wall like Sachiko while battling a hangover seemed to her a prospect about as pleasant as a pap smear. Even Sachiko did not seem displeased with this prospect, and soon enough, leaned her head back and began to sleep. 

In fact, within thirty of leaving the hotel, the only three people still awake in the car were Rei, Sei, and Yumi, who quickly decided to consolidate and fend off boredom. Rei was personally surprised that Yumi wasn't asleep herself—she seemed as hung over as the rest of them.

Sei, on the other hand, was not surprised.

After they had clustered around the driver's seat (they had to relocate Shimako to the back, which was less of a problem than they had anticipated) the first thing Sei asked was, "Are you feeling better, Yumi?"

"I still have a hangover," Yumi mumbled.

"We'll pull off soon enough for some breakfast, and I'll order you a prairie oyster," Sei said.

Rei gave her a look of disbelief. "You're not serious. Those things are terrible, and they don't work."

"Like hell they don't," Sei said. "You just have to make them right."

"What is it?" Yumi asked.

"Pray you never find out," Rei said firmly. "I think it makes you feel worse than the hangover."

"That seems hard to believe," Yumi grumbled.

"Aw, come on," Sei chided. "Where's my perky Yumi and her adventurous spirit?"

"I think she's sleeping off a hangover," Rei pointed out. "She'll be sleeping off a stomachache too, if you feed her one of those."

"I'm already sleeping off a stomachache," Yumi said.

"See? What harm can it do?" Sei said.

"Have you actually tasted one before?" Rei asked. "It seems to me as though you wouldn't be asking that question if you had."

"You're just a cynic," Sei said.

Yumi thought, very privately, that they were both just noisy. She and sound were still not quite on speaking terms. She wouldn't say such a thing, of course—if nothing else, the shame it would cause Sachiko might  
_you didn't change into your own pajamas_  
Yumi sank a little lower in her seat, feeling heat creep up her face. Rei noticed, as did Sei, but a look from the latter silenced the former before she could say anything. Instead, Sei just put her hand on Yumi's head and gave her a grin.

"Cheer up, Yumi," she said. "You'll feel better as soon as…" they passed a road sign which informed them that food was five miles away. "Five miles elapses, apparently."

"I'm a little afraid," Yumi murmured. At the time, she wasn't sure what she was referring to, though Sei had a pretty good idea, and Rei was starting to develop her own.

"Nothing to be afraid of."

"You're driving with only one hand," Rei said. "That's something to be afraid of."

"Sei driving with both hands is something to be afraid of." Yumi said, and laughed, in spite of herself.

Sei huffed in mock indignation and put her other hand back on the wheel. "I feel as though I'm being unfairly persecuted," she said. "I am _not _that bad of a driver."

"You are if I'm not sugarcoating my words," Rei said.

"Oh, really? I'd love to see what it sounds like when you are," Sei said, and then dropped her voice low in a halfway decent imitation of Rei's. "Um, excuse me for being rude, but you're not really a fan of driving, are you?"

Rei snickered. "My voice doesn't sound like that, but I'll give you credit for trying."

"Your voice sounds exactly like that," Sei said, not yielding an inch. "Doesn't it, Yumi?"

But Yumi wasn't paying attention anymore. They had been driving through a section of road enclosed entirely by pine trees, but as Sei spoke, they rounded a curve and the lake came into view again. The sun was at their backs, and all at once, it looked as though the water was not really water, but rather a million sparkling diamonds, rocking back and forth gently.

Though a logical person might have said that it was all just water, Yumi suddenly felt as though maybe she understood the difference between a lake and the ocean. Certainly the ocean was beautiful, vast and clear, seeming to stretch out to infinity, but the lake held a certain _something _that an ocean could not touch; something to do with its _closeness. _The way the water reflected the light onto the trees behind it, causing the forest to appear as though it had come to life, moving with the sway of the water; the look of the short beach on one side, flanked by trees, and the way it made the lake fit in like just another piece of nature, instead of some giant, independent entity.

Yumi could grasp perhaps half of these thoughts coherently in her present state, and so the best she could muster in appreciation of the beauty which overwhelmed her all at once was a deep sigh.

A sigh, and, in spite of the confusion that the previous night had brought her, a single thought:

_Maybe someday I can come here with just _Onee-sama.

As it turned out, Sachiko, who had awoken only a few moments before, had precisely the same thought as she sleepily glanced out the window, and one more, though it was more of a vague idea than a coherent thought. She thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be nice if she could share this scene with somebody, somewhere, so that they could feel the same sense of peace that she felt.

Peace, however, was on nobody's plate that day.

* * *

**Two**

* * *

The restaurant was called _Velvet Rose, _written not in katakana but in roman letters,and it was apparently a rockin' joint. As Sei parked the van and Rei roused the group from their groggy slumber, they heard a dull thumping. Nobody paid it any mind until they opened the door and heard the thumping more clearly, accompanied by a crunchy noise which, while only recognized by Yoshino and Sei as a distorted guitar, was very obviously musical in one way or another. 

"That's…" Yoshino blinked. "Rock music."

Rei glanced at her watch. "But it's not even noon yet," she said. Apparently, rock music was very much like alcohol in that there was a time of day before which playing it was considered unsavory. Had this been commented on to Sei, she might have remarked that rock music was like alcohol in many ways, not the least of which being that it could serve as a remarkably strong incentive for attractive women to take their shirts off in public.

"Well, at least we know the joint is going to have prairie oysters," Sei said. "Maybe even on tap."

Yoshino snickered. Rei looked as though she disapproved, but in reality, she couldn't help but agree.

Sachiko was not sure how to react to this. On the one hand, she found immediately that she didn't mind the crunchy, rhythmic sounds of a genre of music which she had always been informed promoted only loose morals and looser talents. On the other hand…

"On the other hand," Sachiko said, "I believe that all of us may just die if that music is as loud as it seems."

"Prairie oysters on tap," Sei said again. "I'm telling you."

The inside of the building wasn't really abnormal. It was empty save for a solitary man behind the counter of a long bar towards the back, which Sachiko also did not find to be abnormal.

And the music was louder inside. Oh, how it was louder. The one saving grace was that it was coming from a jukebox in the corner, which meant that it was likely that after the song ended, there would be no more unless the waiter slash barkeep got free songs off of it.

As they entered, the man nodded and gave an obligatory "welcome!" but did not move to seat them. He felt that the _please seat yourself _sign towards the front justified this, as did the music, one of Mongolian Chop Squad's best; he did not feel like moving until it was over.

Rather than lingering near the door, absentmindedly considering where they ought to sit until one of them made an arbitrary decision, all of them immediately went to the bar and sat. A bit annoyed, as it meant he would be distracted from Ryuusuke's astronomical guitar solo, the man, whose name was also Ryuusuke, approached the bar from his side and said, "What'll you have? Do you need a menu?" to the group—all women, which he did not mind, but most nonplussed by the music, which he did—as a whole, rather than any one of them.

One of them spoke up, a tall drink of water with sandy blonde hair and tits that demanded his attention (though he refused to give it—working at a joint like this, just far off of Kyoto to attract the disenfranchised Kyoto rock underground, you got a lot of women with tits out to here, and you got used to it…sort of) said, "We'll have…" she took a second, probably counting, "six prairie oysters if you've got 'em."

Another one, an even taller drink of water who probably could have passed for a pretty boy if she'd had a mind to, said, "Hey, _I _don't have a hangover."

The first woman said, "No, but if we're all going to do it, we're_all _going to do it."

The man blinked in astonishment. He knew what she was talking about—it was a local folk remedy for hangovers—but he had never been asked to_make _one. He wasn't even sure if he should—after all, serving raw eggs was a liability issue. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Completely."

It occurred to him that if they were ordering a hangover remedy (which, he believed, was nothing but a crock of shit) that they probably had hangovers, and that he should probably turn the music on the juke down—_son of a bitch, I missed the solo—_before it killed them.

"Just a minute," he said. He was the owner of the joint, so he couldn't exactly excuse himself to _ask a manager, _but at the very least he could take a moment of congress with himself. He went into the back, and, for some reason that he could not understand, opened the giant walk-in cooler and checked his egg stock. It was, of course, full—this had been a slow morning on a day that was usually packed for breakfast.

_It's a load of shit, but if they think it'll help, then why not? If it'll make them feel better, if only as a placebo, there's no reason why not, is there? _

_Well, except for e-coli. That's a decent reason why not._

_Come on. When was the last time _anybody _got sick off eating raw egg? There are like, twenty cases a year in Japan due to raw eggs. _

_And just think how your fine establishment would benefit from being party to one of them._

_Aw, fuck it._

There was nobody else in the restaurant, and, in the end, he was bored.

Besides, that sandy-blonde girl was pretty attractive. And—he glanced out the door to the kitchen and took a good, long look at a tall, classy-looking girl with dark hair speaking quietly with a short, brown-haired girl—that tall one was a fucking _knockout. _The rest of them were cute—the girl with the braids, in particular, looked like she had some hot sauce in her, just by the way she spoke with the boyish girl, and besides, it looked like she was absently tapping her finger to Chiba's staccato voice—but this girl looked like she had some honest class to her, even through the only thinly applied makeup and the wrinkled clothes. She looked like she didn't belong here, and something about that was attractive to Ryuusuke.

So why not.

A few minutes later, he had turned the music on the speakers down, and he had a fresh carton of eggs on the bar, a glass in front of each girl.

"So, how'll you take 'em?" he asked. "You want the tail of the dog that bit you?"

"No thanks," the sandy-blonde said. "We're driving today."

"Oh yeah?" he said as he began cracking eggs into glasses, forcing himself to relax after he broke the yolk of the first one and had to replace it. "Where to?"

"Kyoto," the classy girl said, and his heart nearly fell out of his ass. Her voice, though ragged from a night of what could only have been heavy drinking, was still smooth as butter.

"For anything in particular?" Even though he understood that he had about as good of a shot at this girl as the egg he was cracking into her glass, he found himself silently hoping she didn't say,_visiting my boyfriend._

"You know," she said a little thoughtfully, "to be honest, I'm not certain. Sei, what _are _we going there for?"

"It's farther away from Kashiwagi than Tokyo is," Sei, the sandy-blonde, apparently _Sei,_ said, immediately, as though she had rehearsed it. "And it's pretty there, or something."

This made Ryuusuke smile. It looked like Sei had some hot sauce to her too. Maybe they made 'em different down in Tokyo. Maybe he should find out some time.

"Well, if you're headed down there, try and catch a show at Taku Taku. It's got a lot of big-name crap there, but on weeknights you can still catch some up-and-comers if you're lucky."

"Taku Taku?" the classy  
_oh god I think I might be melting_  
one asked.

"It's a live house down in Kyoto. A lot of big bands hop through there, but a lot of really good underground bands do too, so it's an interesting place." Ryuusuke thought that he had indeed chosen the right profession—to service a restaurant, one needed to be able to keep his cool even when speaking to somebody who made you want to stutter just to be thought of as _cute. _

Somehow, though, he couldn't quite envision this  
_lady_  
woman in a live house.

"A live house, huh," Sei said. "You know, to be honest, I think it might kill you, Sachiko."

_Sachiko. That's her name. __I wonder how it's written._

"Have you been to one?" Sachiko replied, a touch contritely.

Sei gave a small grin. "You know, they're not very ladylike," she replied, evading the question. "They're all smoky, and half of the people are drinking and the other half are sweating it off. And a lot of the time, the music is so loud you can't hear yourself think."

Sachiko chewed on this for a moment, and then said, "I think that if it's possible to get into one, it would be an interesting experience."

"If you want…" Ryuusuke pitched in, a little hopeful, "I could help you get in."

"Oh?" Sachiko said, and Ryuusuke thought privately that he would like to get her in a room by herself and change the inflection on that _oh._

"Yeah," he said. "I get a lot of folks from Taku Taku in here, so if I write you a note and sign it, they'll probably jump you to the head of the line if there is one. I mean, if there's not it's no big deal, you just buy a ticket, but…" For some reason—_no, not_some reason_, a very specific reason—_Ryuusuke just wanted these girls to remember his name. Even if it meant calling in a favor or two.

"Oh, no," Sachiko began, "we couldn't ask you to—"

"We most certainly could," Yoshino cut in, an excited look on her face. "And we'll thank you for it graciously, won't we?" She gave Sei a prompting look which she did not need.

"We most certainly will," Sei said.

"Oh." Sachiko said, taken aback. "I suppose we will, then."

Ryuusuke smiled and then grabbed a sheet off of his order booklet. "So how do you write your name?"

What he did not see at this was the shorter girl with pigtails give him a queer glance, something mixed between concern and an almost animal territorialism.

"The_Sachi _is from luck, and the _ko _is from child," Sachiko said. "Do you need my last name as well?"

"It couldn't hurt."

The look given to him by this pigtailed girl was now leaning more towards the territorial side.

"Ogasawara. Small umbrella field," she said this one more quickly, as though she was trying to brush over it. It took him only a moment to figure out why—the Ogasawara Group was, after all, the company that had loaned him this land and had sold him most of his tables. He kept it to himself, though, and acted as though he didn't recognize the name. It was obvious, after all, that she didn't want him to, and he understood something of not wanting to be associated with one's family, for whatever reason.

In the next few minutes, as he wrote their note out and they all counted to three and downed their prairie oysters in unison, laughed, and then sat through a spell in which the pigtailed girl rubbed Sachiko's back as she struggled to keep hers down (something that Ryuusuke might have told them might happen) while the tomboyish one slowly mopped her brow with cool water, he thought privately that maybe she had done better with distancing herself from her family than he had—after all, she seemed to have a whole family sitting right here in front of him.

_Well, but that's not true and you know it. Chiharu and Tomitake and the rest of them would come and drink with me even if they had to do it in my basement. Maybe it's because I'm a male, or maybe it's because of Chiharu and I, whenever we _are _Chiharu and I, but maybe I don't always associate it with family like that. Maybe just because we don't act like that. Maybe it's just a matter of being grown up, and having to pick myself up when I fall to pieces. _

_If that's what being grown up is, I'd rather skip. How many times have Chiharu and Tomitake dragged you out of here at three in the morning?_

_Maybe that's why I noticed Sachiko. Sure, she oozes class like Chiharu does when she tries to, but she acts like Chiharu did before she got into trouble with booze. Like maybe she's just a little invincible._

_Fuck it. _

"So what'll you girls have today?" he asked. They were his only customers, and besides…

_he_might have appreciated some free food on a hard hangover, especially after being force-fed (via peer pressure) something as disgusting as a prairie oyster.

"It's on the house."

* * *

Sachiko had not noticed the territorial look that Yumi had given Ryuusuke, who she thought was a very nice man, but she did notice something very nice as they dug into their food: Yumi was sitting next to her, and had scooted her seat just a little bit closer. That damp mist of awkwardness still hung over them, but it was weaker here, as though they had emerged from a dank jungle onto an open plain, the scent of where they had been still lingering but the feel of the fresh air driving it away even as they spoke. 

"_Onee-sama_, are you sure you'll be all right to go do something as strenuous as seeing live music tonight?" Yumi asked, and then spooned some egg onto a piece of toast and took a bite. How she was able to eat a fried egg was beyond Sachiko. "It's very…noisy."

"That's kind of the idea," Yoshino said. "If your music was quiet nobody'd hear it and everybody would go home."

"But, I mean…doesn't your head hurt?"

Sachiko didn't know if it was the prairie oyster (it seemed unlikely) or the food, or maybe just the pleasant conversation, but now that she thought about it, it did not hurt so bad as it had before. A little advil, and

_god damn it wheres my advil  
sachiko would you just calm down and talk to me  
no my head hurts just go away_

Sachiko gave her head a sharp jerk. There was no reason to start thinking about that now.

Especially not after she had just done  
_that_  
with Yumi.

_What_did _we do? _she asked herself. Surprisingly enough, _herself_answered.

_Do I need to draw you a picture? _

_Did we have sex?_

_No, or if you did, you were so drunk that I don't think it can count. I think you might have if you had been a little more sober._

_…Why?_

_Why what?_

_Why did we almost have sex?_

She felt almost awkward thinking this. As though if she had spoken it aloud to anybody, whether or not she knew them, she might feel a bit stupid just after.

"You know, it's not that bad."

Yumi smiled. "That's good. We really did overdo it las…" she trailed off.

Sei gave her a look out of the corner of her eye, and Yumi did her best to shrink back into her stool.

Yoshino had no idea what was going on, though she had a few guesses, but she did feel the air of awkwardness begin to descend over this, and so said, "Does anybody else have any ideas of what to do in Kyoto?"

"I would very much like to see the temples," Shimako said, her voice a little raspier than usual. (What they did not see when she spoke was Ryuusuke slumping just a little in his seat as he drank coffee, giving their obligatory ten minutes before he checked on them. Sachiko might have acted like Chiharu, but god damn if this girl did not sound exactly like Chiharu did after a long night of rum and sex. What a bunch of girls were these, who had wandered into his store on this quiet morning.)

"Of course you would," Sei said. "If nobody else wants to be bored out of their blasphemous boots, I'll even escort you."

"I'm a Catholic as well," Shimako reminded her. Sei braced herself for the inevitable stinging follow up, but it didn't come. Perhaps Shimako couldn't think of one. Perhaps she didn't care enough.

_Or maybe she's not in the mood to banter with you. Could you blame her?_

_I know it's a little too late to be realizing this, but I probably should not have said that to her. _

_But what the fuck was I supposed to say? _No, it was great, let's do it again whenever_ would be nice, but that would be a damned lie and we'd both know it. Shit on that. Shit on that big time. _

"I'd kind of like to see them," Yumi said. "I think it would be interesting. In spite of what our teachers say, I'm kind of interested in other religions."

"Straight to hell with her," Yoshino said. "And don't forget your bathing suit, you could get yourself a tan for once." She cracked a grin.

"Will you come with us?" Yumi asked.

"Of course," Yoshino said. "The view from the top of some of those temples is amazing."

"We could all just pick a tall temple to hike up to and have a lunch," Rei suggested.

"Yeah, and you can bring your whistle and stopwatch and give us lashings if we climb slowly," Yoshino said, and the group laughed.

"_Onee-sama_," Yumi asked, "is there anything you'd like to do?"

_Again, she brings me into the conversation before I even realize that I've excluded myself, _Sachiko thought. _Without her I would be an ornament. Without her, everything I did would be akin to a family function._

"I…" Sachiko thought for a moment, but it only took her that moment to think of something she rather would like to do. "I'd like to see a castle, I think."

"Surveying your domain," Sei jabbed, and Rei and Yoshino chuckled.

"Perhaps," was all that Sachiko said. For some reason, though, this comment hurt her more than it ought to have, which was not at all. She wondered if Yumi noticed.

As they all turned back to their meals, Yumi touched Sachiko's shoulder gently and murmured, "She was just joking."

Sachiko very nearly cried. Nobody noticed but Yumi.

* * *

This was the dynamic of the group which had wandered into his establishment as Ryuusuke observed it—as a part bartender, part restaurateur, he was, whether by practice or by talent, very astute at recognizing dynamics of groups, though this was only useful in the former function: 

Sei and the girl whose voice could have made pornography in its present condition were acquaintances, but he had noticed several times this latter girl looking at Sei for confirmation or unspoken advice—_this is a good idea, isn't it. Isn't it? Isn't it. _Sei seemed to have some affection for her, but she held it back for some reason. He had counted no less than four separate instances of Sei moving to pat this girl's head, only to stop halfway through. Additionally, he had noticed this girl would sometimes avoid eye contact with Sei—not uncommon among the Japanese, something he had noticed acutely after going to America and having people ram their gaze down his throat for six months, and then coming back to Japan, in which eye contact wasn't always considered terribly polite. What was strange was the way it would happen—Sei would crack a joke, or perhaps this girl (who was amazing at jabs) would knock at Sei a bit, and then they would take a glance at one another, obligatory among friends who joked quite a bit to make sure nothing had gone too far, but the glance would only be for a moment, and then they would break their gazes, almost simultaneously. It was almost as though they were friends who had dated at one point not so terribly recently.

The tall drink of water and the French-braided girl who liked Chiba were friendly as hell. Touch between them was almost constant, be it a small pat on the arm or a touch of the hands. He had heard them say that they were Catholic, and if it were not for this, he would have sworn with his hand on whatever holy text was available that they were lovers in private and associates in public. It may yet have been the case. Additionally, the French-braid seemed to be Sei's accomplice in many jokes, and a close friend of the pigtailed girl, as the two of them would occasionally end their sentences with some obscure reference to something he had never heard of and then crack up.

It was this pigtailed girl that interested him the most, though, because of her relationship to Sachiko. Things between them seemed to be in the_weird _state that followed many different sorts of events, but most notably a night of misplaced sex between friends. They avoided looking at each other altogether save for in sidelong glances, and conversations between the two of them which had nothing wrong with them were often cut short midway with a short, awkward _cool _or_interesting. _

He could not help being concerned about Sachiko. Misplaced sex was a huge problem between friends. Lord knew it had not helped him and Chiharu the first time around. He could do precisely nothing about it, he knew, but even so…he wished suddenly that it was night and he was operating a bar instead of a restaurant, so that he could dish out his own advice to her. Not for her sake, of course—advice was the easiest thing in the world to give, and consequently the stupidest thing in the world to take—but for his. Because he was concerned.

_Concerned. Funky word for it._

Instead, he struck up a conversation with Sei and the French-braid (whose name turned out to be Yoshino) about music.

"I noticed you grooving to Chiba," he said to Yoshino as he gave her a cup of coffee and took her plate. "You a Beck fan?"

Yoshino nodded. "They're pretty good."

"This from a girl who likes to listen to choir music, you should be amazed," Sei said.

Ryuusuke laughed. "Oh yeah?"

"I think it's a prerequisite for going to a Catholic school," Sei said. "You have to like gospel."

"Do you?"

"Absolutely. Sometimes."

Ryuusuke laughed, and then took Sei's plate as well and said, "I'll be right back." He brought the small load of dishes into the back, rinsed them off quickly—it didn't take much, since the girls seemed to be remarkably neat people—and dropped them into his dishwasher.

When he got back out, Sachiko was fishing through her purse.

_Ah, damn it._

"How much do I owe you, sir?" she asked, and for a moment, their eyes met. He flashed her a charming smile.

"I'd like to say _nothing, _but I don't think I could afford it. Your hangover cures are on the house, anyway."

"You don't have to do that," she said, and he held his grin. "But thank you."

Rei began fishing around in her purse as well, but as she opened her mouth to stop Sachiko, presumably, from picking up the entire tab, Sei took her arm and said, "Now, why would you do that?"

"There's no reason for Sachiko to pay the entire bill," Rei said.

"Except for that successful conglomerate with her name on it," Sei said. "Besides, while none of you were looking, I paid the hotel tab, so it's even."

Normally, Sachiko might have been bothered by this. The mention of the Ogasawara group; the connection between it and her; the use of it to separate her in some way.

This time, it seemed…okay. Because Sei was being funny, in part, but for some other reason, as well. Maybe because Sei picked up the hotel tab. Or maybe…

_What?_

She paid the bill in cash, and after thanking Ryuusuke, they left.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Sei was too devious for that. She had seen the look that Ryuusuke was giving her, and on top of that, she had seen the look that Yumi was giving Ryuusuke.

It was too perfect. And Sachiko had left the restaurant in a considerably better mood for it, even if she probably would never catch onto why.

Sei thought that in spite of the remnants of a headache and the sleepy faces all around, it might be a very good day.

* * *

A black_hot-shit _car pulled into _Velvet Rose _three hours after Sachiko and her group had left. Ryuusuke had not forgotten them, but he had put them in the back of his head as the stored filled up with a lunch rush large enough to make up for the failed breakfast hour. 

He spotted the _hot-shit _car and frowned. Out of it stepped two black-suited _hot-shit _toughs and one beige-suited youth, about Sachiko's age, who didn't look quite like he belonged.

They walked in and stepped up to the counter immediately. He did his best not to look like he noticed their effort to look like_ hot-shits. _

"Excuse me," the youth said. "I hate to bother you, but did a group of six girls about my age pass through here this morning?"

Looking back on it, Ryuusuke could see no reason not to tell the truth, but he did not. "Dunno. Maybe. It was a pretty busy breakfast hour, I didn't have a lot of time to tally faces."

"I see," he said. "Well, if you do happen to see them, please give me a call." From the inside of his jacket, he produced a piece of paper. Pictures of each of the six girls from this morning. Underneath, a phone number.

The man turned to leave.

"Hey," Ryuusuke called. "Who's asking?"

The man considered for a moment. "Suguru Kashiwagi."

_(It's farther away from Kashiwagi than Tokyo is)_

Ryuusuke nodded. "You got it, buddy."

"Thank you," the man smiled politely.

Suguru leaned into his seat as the car started in motion again. "He was lying," he said.

"I know," the man to his left, whose name was Wantabe, said. Wantabe was a close friend of Suguru's. "It was coming out of his pores."

Suguru shrugged. "I suppose I can't blame him. I would have done the same if Sachiko came in and asked me to."

"You think she asked him to?"

"No. She's not that kind of a person."

Wantabe nodded. "You know, you could probably just let her come back on her own."

"I know. I probably will. But I need to talk to her first." Even as it came out of his mouth, Suguru didn't like the way it sounded. He hoped it didn't sound that way when he said it to her.


	19. 16: Have you ever

Author's notes:

Tokyo University is considered by many to be among the most prestigious schools in Japan.

The research involved in writing this chapter made me want to go to Kyoto. I'll be taking donations.

The Meiji restoration was a period in Japan after the policy of _Sakoku _(鎖国 – lit. closed country) ended in which Japan began to modernize itself. It began with the policy known as_Kaikoku _(開国 – lit. open country), which was the result of the Treaty of Amity and Commerce. It started in 1868.

No, their room placements are not going to be for convenient extra-strength drama.

And remember guys, I put a lot of effort into this, so if you liked it or if you didn't, please think about dropping me a review!

Also, I have deleted an anonymous review due to his offensive name. I don't normally delete reviews since everybody is entitled to their opinions about my abilities, good or bad, but come on, guy. Have some taste.

* * *

_Have you ever buried your face in your hands because no one around you understands?_

* * *

Chapter 16  
Have you ever

Sachiko had never been quite sure about the prospect of a "universal truth." She believed devoutly in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but even then, she had trouble reconciling their gospel with the way the world worked.

Regardless of this, however, there was one absolutely undeniable truth which Sachiko acknowledged quite faithfully.

There are a lot of things in this world which are very difficult. Often times they are thankless things, tasks nobody will notice that you've done. Things we take for granted. Things we try not to consider as we think and plan for the future.

Out of all of these things, however, the most difficult, thankless task was often simply _starting. _Flying was easy; taking off and landing were the tough parts; one might write a novel if they could simply have an idea worth writing; if one could diet for one day, they could diet for the rest of the year.

Halfway into their remaining hour of road between the _Velvet Rose_and Kyoto, Sachiko decided that perhaps she ought to _start_soon. This decision came from nobody's wisdom at all, but rather from a queasy little feeling she got after a queasy little experience she had. A feeling like if she didn't start soon, she might never start at all.

She didn't even bother to ask herself precisely what she was starting.

She knew.

* * *

The feeling of _fitting in_ was a funny little thing for Shimako Toudo. She wasn't really quite sure what it was like, but she thought that she ought to. She sat next in the front seat again, next to Sei, who drove, and nursed what remained of her hangover, while talking with Yumi, in the seat just behind her, and Yoshino, sitting next to Sachiko, who sat next to Yumi. (Yumi had flat refused to leave Sachiko's side after the girl had nearly collapsed in the parking lot outside of _Velvet Rose_, clutching her stomach and grimacing.) The three discussed idle, useless things: Music; 

_Yoshino, who was the band playing at Velvet Rose?  
You don't know, Shimako? That's Beck! They're amazing.  
But I thought you said they were only okay.  
I said they were _pretty good, _and that's only because that guy was totally making a pass at me.  
I don't think that's quite how it was. It looked more like he was looking at _Onee-sama…  
_You only say that because that's where _you _were staring the whole time._  
school;  
_Yumi, are you applying for any schools?  
I was thinking about applying to Tokyo University.  
Are you serious?  
Why are you saying it like that?!  
Saying it like what?  
You said that in the same tone of voice you might address Rei had she just announced her intent to marry the Emperor. Or fly.  
I did not say it like that! Anyway, that was way too specific!  
You did kinda say it like that, Yoshino…_  
even simple things like plans for Kyoto.  
_Do you think Sachiko will be able to handle something like a live house after she collapsed like that?  
I think that if she has her mind set on such a thing, it is in all of our best interests not to attempt to stop her. The rich have better hired help, and better insurance.  
You shouldn't talk like that. I don't think she likes it.  
I'm…sorry.  
Settle down, Yumi, she was just kidding. Nobody's threatening your young. _

Even after this, the thing feared most by those who are unlucky enough to earn the title _socially awkward, _the _gaffe_, it wasn't so bad. Shimako felt the embarrassment and, worse, the fear begin to rise from her gut to her chest.

She looked over at Sei quickly. Sei was gazing out the side window, a bored look on the side of her face that Shimako could see in the reflection of the glass.

_She's not looking at me. _A moment, barely visible, of childish intent in the private voice of her mind. And then, more comfortable. _She's not looking at me. She's not looking, so nothing's wrong. She'll only turn her attention here if she needs to or if she wants to, and she doesn't need to  
(but she doesn't want to either)  
so everything's fine. Handle yourself, the same as always.  
(because she won't)  
Because she knows I can. And I can._

Shimako felt her heart slow and her skin cool. She leaned back, and felt two things which were fairly easily separable:

The first was a warm feeling; not exactly comfort, but maybe something like strength, coming up from the same place in her gut the fear came from.

The second was a brand new sort of fear. Sei was not looking at the road.

They didn't crash, but Shimako felt that it was a matter of coincidence, as the road was utterly empty.

That was the other piece of her life that made her feel as though this feeling, that _fitting in _was something strange and alien, was unwarranted: She knew these people. She knew them well, and in ways more intimate than she could have known them as a mere observer.

She knew this very well. Observing was something she was very practiced at, and while it was nice to stave off loneliness, it very rarely gave one an accurate image of a person. She had known she was no longer observing when

_(that)_

happened.

_Because I saw it coming. I saw it coming a mile away, and it was like some inexplicable leash pulled me towards it anyway._

She looked over at Sei.

Sei looked back.

She smiled, and Sei gave a grin back, and then went back to looking at the road.

_It'll be fine._

So long as Sei continued looking at the road. Shimako was able to relax a little. (The rest of the car breathed a collective sigh of relief along with her.) Sei snuck a glance—though this was probably too romantic a description for a glimpse out of the corner of one's eye, Shimako liked it—a moment later.

_Checking on me? Is that what this is? I can think of nothing else. _

_Sei has more layers than I thought. _

_This is why observation is worthless. I may as well have been staring straight into the sun. _

The truth was, Shimako had a steady, meticulous mind. She had long been able to apply it to her studies with great effect, so she had thought it natural to apply it to the rest of her life. Her life was by its own virtue untroubled, and until she met Sei, she had not once paused to think that this was less because of her methodical approach to life than it was because she was a pretty middle-class Japanese girl living in Japan attending a private Catholic school while keeping other people at arm's length.

_Getting beyond observation is hard. Getting to know people is painful. But thinking about it, the way I went about life was simply…wrong. I barely even have any memories of my childhood. It's not amnesia or anything, I just…didn't make any. I stayed away from people and spent my time studying or just watching the world move around me. It's a beautiful world, but I thought that just watching it was enough. What's the point, though, if I forget about it a week later? What was the point of the whole thing? The next thing I know, I'll be sitting in a desk at University and have no idea how I got there. A week later I'll be getting a promotion at my new job and a month after that I'll be getting married to somebody I barely know because it's what father would want. _

_That's what this is for, isn't it. This road trip. It's not just for Sachiko. It's for all of us. We all need it. _

"Hey, wake up. I can see Kyoto," Yumi said.

Shimako looked up, and she saw it—the first bit of Kyoto, looming over the horizon in the form of a sign informing her of Kyoto's population.

"You can't see Kyoto," Yoshino said.

"But Kyoto can see you," Shimako said.

Yumi and Yoshino stared at the girl for a solid minute before erupting into giggles.

"We still have half an hour to go before we hit the bulk of the city, kids, so just settle down," Sei said.

Shimako leaned back in her seat as her brain began moving. Like a computer's memory, her mind. Address: _Just settle down. _Instruction: Fetch. The processor

_(this is why moving closer is so …_damn _painful) _

that was her brain returns:

_Shimako, just settle down._

_You were in love with me, weren't you?_

_Shimako, what the hell are you talking about?_

_You were. That's what I saw. You loved me, and so isn't this what we should do?_

_Shimako, I—knock it off._

_I love you too. I've decided that and it took a long time and I love you._

_Shimako, I don't know how the hell I confused you this badly, but—get _off_me, damn it!_

_…_

_Damn it, I'm sorry. Just…settle down._

_You keep the people you love at arm's length. You love Yumi and you keep her from seeing you by being very affectionate. You loved Mizuno-sempai and you kept her at arm's length by acting independent. _

_What the hell are you talking about? _

_This is…_

_What you _observed?

_…It is. _

_And you've made conjecture based on your observations._

_…Yes._

_You're a fool, Shimako. And the only reason I can't say anything more than that is that I've been a fool all my life, and I don't believe in calling the pot black when my mailbox reads _kettle.

"Sei, if it's all right," Shimako spoke in a low voice, but not too low as to draw attention—nothing perked interest like a whisper—"could we speak later?"

"We certainly may," Sei said like it was nothing at all.

_We certainly may. _Not _sure, but why not here?; _not _yeah, is everything okay?; _just _we certainly may. _

Sei's vision was far-reaching.

Shimako thought she ought to take that down as a note.

* * *

Suguru was the one who finally figured it out, but that didn't surprise either of the two who had been asked to accompany him. He was clever; it sort of resonated from him. They had been driving along the highway away from _Velvet Rose _rather aimlessly, though neither of them had wanted to admit it to him, it being generally inadvisable to admit to one's boss the fact that one hadn't a clue what one was doing. _(The trick of it is to look busy while you're boning the boss's daughter, ha-ha)._

About ten minutes into the road, they had encountered a sign which informed them of their close proximity to Kyoto. A moment later Suguru had said, "They're going to Kyoto." He had then instructed the one who was not driving to use his phone and come up with a list of all of the live house venues in Kyoto.

"Live houses, sir?" that one had asked skeptically. He had seen Sachiko around the house a few times (she _did _live there, after all—just not in the parts he tended to be assigned to) and she seemed like such a proper lady that the idea of her in a live house conjured in his mind the image of a woman standing in the middle of a mosh pit with a summer dress on. It seemed ridiculous. "That doesn't seem like Miss Ogasawara."

Suguru had smiled, and though the man wasn't allowed to look back at him, he could hear it in the boy's voice. "I think it does. She's out here to get away, after all; what's the use in getting away if you don't do something unlike yourself?"

"So you don't think she was kidnapped?" he thought himself idiotic the moment he said it—inside his head and coming from the Boss's mouth (the old Boss in Kyoto, not the young Boss-to-be sitting in the back of his car) were the only places, in fact, that it didn't sound stupid.

"Even though he only said it was a possibility, did you really entertain the idea for more than a minute?"

Truth was, he had. He had been told to, after all, and working at somebody's beck and call kind of established that mindset inside of somebody without their knowing—after a while, if the Boss said it was blue, it was blue, regardless of how much light it reflected.

"I…I guess I did, sir."

"Well, I suppose it does tend to leave an impact on somebody when the claim is made that a beautiful woman has been kidnapped," Suguru said, and for some reason, the man felt better. "I can't blame you. Now, please, could you check?"

"Of course, sir. If I can ask, though…"

"Of course."

"How did you know? That she would come out this way in the first place, I mean. That the girl on the phone wasn't lying."

Suguru chewed on that for a moment. "I suppose…well, I knew Sei wasn't lying. She was daring me to come after her, I think." He laughed. "That's Sei. You'd know if you knew her."

The man had seen her once, on her way in. Greeted her, even. She had looked to him like a man-eater, and not the sort that was good for a night.

"But, I had thought she might head out here in any case. It's peaceful out here."

The man supposed Suguru simply knew his fiancé better.

He was very correct.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sei said, "I give you Kyoto." 

Kyoto began with a bridge, oddly enough, and there the resemblances to Tokyo began. As they neared the city, the two-lane highway turned into an eight-lane freeway which they eventually had to stop and pay to continue using. As they rocketed down the tollway at Satou kilometers per hour, the three of them who were not clutching onto the nearest steady handholds for dear life—Rei, Sachiko, and, of course, Sei herself—saw a skyline which looked remarkably like that of Tokyo: To their left, a skyscraper which towered up amidst a labyrinth of round-shingled houses, some with a modern twinge and some with a design more suited to the Meiji era. To their right, that labyrinth extended as far as they could see, eclipsed only by the shadow of a mountain. To their more immediate right, a man talking into a small speaker stuck in his ear cut them off angrily with a honk.

Remarkably like Tokyo. Remarkably like any god-damned big city on the planet. You couldn't help but be a little grumpy sometimes when 1.5 million other people were sandwiched in around you.

_Remarkably like Tokyo. I'll bet there are Catholic girls' schools here, too, ones that teach the girls to walk slowly and keep the hem of their skirts neat. I'll bet there are families here that tell the girls that if they're not polite they'll bankrupt the company. _

_I'll bet there are boys here, too. Ones who have bedrooms with latches that aren't quite quiet enough to keep the boys from waking up when  
(not thinking about that)_  
This caused Sachiko's stomach a familiar lurch.

_You'll never get away from Tokyo. You'll never get away from anything._

_You'll never get away from _him

"Damn it, Sei!" Rei shouted. "You could drop twenty KPH and we'd _still _be speeding!"

"That's the point!" Sei shouted back with a touch of giddiness that Yumi and Yoshino really wished they would have missed. "It means we've got options!"

Secretly, Sachiko wished that Sei would speed up. Like maybe, if they drove fast enough, they might more quickly come to a section of the city that didn't look like Tokyo.

She wondered if Suguru had sent anybody after her yet.

"Let's get off," Sachiko said all of a sudden. "Let's go into the city and find a small hotel in a quiet part of town."

_Maybe I can buy it and turn it into a house. Then maybe we can all live there. Just all live there and never have to worry about anything ever again, just stay there together with Yumi. Not them. Me. They can stay with their own  
(their own what?)  
…their own…  
Lovers.  
(is that what you are?)  
I don't think I could ask for anything more.  
(remarkably sudden for a girl who can't make a simple life decision for herself)  
I don't think it's sudden at all. I think I've just not been paying attention. _

Sei grinned a touch wildly and swerved hard onto an exit ramp that they had damn near passed by the time she got onto it. Everybody in the car, herself included, shrieked a bit at this. Sachiko found Yumi's hand in the confusion and took it, squeezed it. Yumi looked up, surprised, but then smiled at Sachiko, who could not help but smile back.

_(isn't it funny that you decide this, that the two of you ought to be lovers, only now, when your mind is on Suguru and the way you)_

_I am not fucking thinking about that._

_(I'll just bet that _he_ is.)_

Sachiko gritted her teeth and tried to shut that nasty little voice out of her head.

_(I'm called the voice of reason, sister.)_

She actually owned a set of plastic caps for her teeth. She wore it some nights when her jaw wouldn't unclench for more than two minutes to avoid requiring nasty, expensive dental work.

"Lodging, half a kilometer," Sei read off of a sign to her right. "Sounds good." She took a left turn that was way too hard and sped off down the medium-sized street. About halfway down the street, they saw a large billboard which advertised, using absolutely no flowery language, that _Taku Taku _was two kilometers west of the street they were currently on. Though none of them had a compass on them, they safely assumed that this meant _close. _

_(You better get your caps ready, because I'm not going away until you acknowledge the fact that you're marrying him.)_

_I know that. But he's not even interested in women._

_(Maybe not, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to be. No other women, and no other men, no matter what _he _says. Tell me, when do you suppose was the last time your mother got any?)_

_You are revolting. Get away from me._

_(No, tell me. When_

"Onee-sama." A gentle squeeze on her hand. Sachiko looked up, and Yumi was smiling at her. "You don't need to worry. We'll have fun."

_When did you turn psychic, Yumi?_

Sachiko's jaw unclenched, and after a moment, relaxed.

"I look around the car," Sachiko said quietly to herself, "and I see not a single person worrying."

And as far as she could see, that was the truth. In a moment, her tensions had eased significantly, so that even looking in the mirror, she saw a girl with fewer crinkles on the bridge of her nose, and more smile lines on her face.

Of course, she had not gotten a good look at Sei or Shimako.

* * *

On a scale of one to classy, this second hotel was stuck somewhere between the red-light district of Tokyo and a cave. The experience at Satoi and Kiyomi's hotel only compounded this feeling—whereas that place had had a cozy feeling not unlike that of a freshly-cleaned house, this place felt a little like a…well, like a cave in the red-light district of Tokyo. The air was chilly in the lobby—the result of overenthusiastic air conditioning, no doubt—and smelled damp and a bit moldy. 

"I suppose," Sachiko said a moment after they entered, "that the primary draw of this establishment is its proximity to the live houses, and not its quality service and friendly staff."

Indeed, the only person working behind the counter—a boy who didn't look like he could have been out of middle school—seemed to be unable to decide whether to look bored or gape at the girls.

Sei said, "At least we know the rooms will be clean."

"How do we know that?" Yumi asked.

Rei caught on. "The rooms can be rented by the hour. I suppose you want to clean those up if you don't want to get shut down."

Yumi blinked, nonplussed, for about half a second, and then yelped as her face turned a deep red. From behind the counter, the boy snickered audibly, and Yoshino shot him a nasty look. The boy stopped snickering, also with a little yelp.

"Though, if they're this close to a live house, I'm not sure if there will be any rooms left," Rei said, her tone as even as it might have been were she _not _talking about sex.

"It's not late yet, so they'll have a few spots," Sei said, her voice just as neutral. "If we'd gotten here at 10 I'm sure all of the rooms would be gone for at least an hour."

"Can we _not _talk about this right here?" Yumi protested, her face looking as though it might begin to steam, or perhaps be picked by a wayward beet farmer. "Or, for that matter, anywhere?"

_(But why would you say that, Yumi, when the two of us—oh, I see, Sachiko, you want to rent a room by the hour here.) _

_Be quiet, you vile woman._

_(Oh my, I thought we were being more honest with ourselves.)_

"Anyway," Sachiko said, "It can't be too horrible, especially if it's only for a  
_(couple of hours)_  
day or so."

"Your choice," Sei said with a shrug, and then approached the counter. Left unsaid in her wake was, _just be careful not to get pregnant off the toilet seat. _

They approached with her. The boy looked ecstatic.

"How many people can a room sleep here?" Sei asked, her tone none too polite. She probably figured it was best to be forceful with the youth from the get-go, and this was not such a bad idea.

"Two," the boy said. "Three if you like to squeeze."

Rei reached out and knocked the boy on the head a bit. "Please be more careful with your tongue." The gentle punch was just strong enough to rock him a bit, certainly not intended to hurt, but he rubbed the area anyway, his head a bit low. It seemed, maybe, like something he was used to.

"All right, then. Three rooms, please." And then, before the boy could ask, "For the night."

"All right." The boy seemed to be doing his best to keep the resentment out of his voice, but at the same time, the boy was no older than fourteen, and resentment was what fourteen year-old boys did best. Sachiko thought that Yumi could have told them that; even from the few stories Yumi told, Yuuki had certainly had his phases, though he was more grown-up than most boys his age.

_(Maybe that's why Suguru takes such an interest in him. Maybe you ought to act more like a fourteen year-old boy.)_

This time, Sachiko could not even muster the energy to snap back. She felt tired all of a sudden; she wanted to rest.

The boy handed the room keys to Rei, who divvied them up using the same pairs she had last time around—by soeurs—though something about it niggled against her better judgment. This time, they were not all adjacent to each other—not surprising, since this hotel, being in the middle of a city next to a live concert venue, would logically be fuller than Kiyomi's had been. As it was, none of them were on the same floor: Sachiko and Yumi were on the second floor, Rei and Yoshino on the third, and Sei and Shimako on the fourth.

"Well, I suppose this is good-bye," Sei said as they approached the elevator. She was met with silence, and so, after a moment, she whirled around to face Yumi, seizing her hand. She bent down on one knee so as to make eye contact with the girl, and said, her voice positively waxing dramatic, "Promise me that if I lose my life in this, the most dangerous, eerie, and moldy of dungeons, that you shall never forget me, and that you will scrub the mold from your room in my honor at least once a week."

Yumi blinked, completely taken by surprise. Sei planted a kiss on her hand, and the girl yelped, which Sei considered to be a much better reaction. Looking up out of the corner of her eye, she could just barely see the look that Sachiko was giving her—possessive as always, yes, and angry at Sei's inappropriateness, as always. But also…

_Do I sense a hint of jealousy, my dear?_

Sei regarded that to be a plus. She had never regarded herself to be much of a matchmaker, and indeed, at the hotel, she had struggled with the prospect of losing Yumi so _permanently, _but Sei was a smart girl. She knew the difference between being defeated and never having had a chance.

Besides, whenever Sei looked at Yumi and Sachiko, a small part of her felt only impatience.

"_Rosa Gigantea, _please control yourself in front of my _soeur_," was what Sachiko might have said in such a situation.

Not this time, though. Sei waited a moment, and then straightened up, glanced again at Sachiko out of the corner of her eye. The woman remained silent and stoic, entirely unreadable.

_What the hell?_

What the hell, indeed.

* * *

For some reason, Sei made a comparison between the room she entered with the key the boy had given her and a hot dog: It looked okay, but she had a feeling that she might not be able to live with herself if she subjected it to a close, rigorous inspection. Not the venue she might have chosen for what she knew would come next. 

_Knew_, though, that was a funny little word. Lots of people _knew _things, but few of them could—or should—confidently say that they knew them for certain. After all, what was really certain, anyway? The past, and about half of the present, maybe.

"May we talk now, Sei?" Shimako asked.

_It still feels funny having her call me _Sei _instead of_Onee-sama.

"Sure," Sei replied.

Shimako sat down on the bed. It made a sound which might have sounded to the casual observer like a _creak, _but to Sei—perhaps only because it was on her mind already—it sounded like a _squish. _

After a moment, Shimako patted the bed next to her. Sei hesitated a moment, and then sat as well.

There was silence for a moment—Sei hoped that Shimako was not waiting for her to say something, because she wasn't sure what to say.

Shimako let out a breath, and then leaned back, resting on her open palms. Sei, her stomach tightening into a knot of anxiety, chanced a look at the girl's face, and saw somebody who looked like they were doing their very best to make peace with themselves. This did nothing for her anxiety.

After a moment, Shimako spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said. "For pushing myself on you like that. It was a dumb idea, and I deserved what I got."

Sei felt that she could not argue with that. _After all, she kissed me. When I was naked, of all times. And not, like, dancing on a pool table with a broom-naked. Like, changing-naked. And after that, she just wouldn't…_

_Settle down._

_It felt like an ambush. I can't say I felt _violated, _if only because it was Shimako, but if I had, nobody would have faulted me for it. _

And then, that old, tired cliché: _Why don't you tell _her_that?_

Sei looked at Shimako, who looked as though she was trying very hard to hold her expression. She didn't feel anger like she had immediately after Shimako had pressed their lips together, nor frustration as she had tried to push the girl off and had been met with depression and something bordering resentment rather than a sudden snap of clarity as she had been hoping for. In Shimako, she did not see a scared schoolgirl confessing to her first crush; not now, not then.

She saw a girl, now, as she had then, who had simply been afraid of losing her _Onee-sama _to feelings that she didn't fully understand, and certainly had no tools to deal with.

_I had still thought she was straight._

_I think if I'd said that she might have run into the hall crying, naked or no._

_How do you even deal with feelings like that? It's not like there's really many people around to talk about it with, doubly so at a damned _Catholic _school. One minute, you're the same as nine-tenths of the people around you, and the next, you realize that you've caught yourself in the middle of a fantasy about, of all people, your _Onee-sama. _I think I might have been scared assless too. It's not one of those things you can deny or brush over, like finding the newscaster pretty or having fun little thoughts about the girl who sits next to you in class._

"It was scary, wasn't it?"

Shimako nodded. "It was. It was terrifying."

"Are you still scared?"

"A little."

"Of me? Or of yourself?"

Shimako shook her head. "Neither of those things. Or maybe a little of both."

Sei leaned back, placing herself parallel with Shimako, also resting on her hands. After a second, she thought, _fuck it, I think she got the idea before, _and put one of her hands on Shimako's, offering a silent prayer of _please, don't let her get the wrong idea, _and hoping she waxed comforting more than she thought she did.

"_Onee-sama?_"

_She's calling me that again. It feels kind of nice._

"Mmm?"

"Can we just start over?"

"From what point?"

Shimako hesitated, and while Sei didn't see her clenching one hand tightly behind her back, she wouldn't have been surprised, either. "I was hoping from just before I went after you naked."

"So you're hoping for…"

"I guess…I…" Shimako shook her head. "I…my feelings haven't changed; I don't think so anyway. But if I try again, I'd like to try and avoid all the," her voice changed a bit here, and it took Sei a moment to realize she was doing an impersonation of none other than Sei herself, "melodramatic, girly bullshit. I guess…from before. Start over from before."

Sei was dumbstruck for a moment until she caught the impression, _(I said that very same thing to Kei not two weeks ago; Shimako was in the room, too)_ and then she smiled.

"Sure," she said, and then squeezed Shimako's hand. "Start over, then. From before."

"Do I…"

"Have a shot?" Sei gave up leaning, and flopped back onto the bed completely, pretending she didn't hear the _squish. _Or telling herself that she imagined it. Maybe she did.

_Does she?_

Sei took a look at Shimako, catching only the girl's slender back and neck, her pale skin, and the gentle outline of her left breast. She thought, _Mind out of the gutter and answer her seriously, please. _

Really, there was no thinking involved.

Who, in all the world, understood her better than Shimako? Understood the need ingrained deep within her to simply _live and let live, _an idea that, sometimes, it felt like the rest of Japan couldn't catch onto to save their fucking lives.

_(Yumi)_

_(Maybe Yumi. But Yumi is not interested, and you have to live and let live. You have to do your best for Yumi to stay out of her way, just as you always have, interfering only in small doses to give her a nice, open-palmed, metaphorical pat on the behind.)_

_And how wonderful a thing it is to simply be _understood.

"I think so."

Shimako exhaled, and Sei could hear the relief. "Thank you, _Onee-sama._"

Sei sat up again and grinned. "Hey, no problem. Besides, this way, all the girly bullshit stays in our heads where it belongs."

Shimako smiled a little airily, already seeming more herself. She leaned back, thought a moment, and then said, "Indeed it does."


	20. 17: How far we've come

Authors notes

Yes, I know it's been a while. It's been a tough couple of months in my personal life, and to top it off I'm about to start my first internship. Forgive me, 'kay?

Sometimes the Japanese call a dance club a _disco_. (Literally: Di-su-ko. Ouch, right?) I have, however, omitted this in favor of the more accessible _club, _as for an American reader the word _disco _is likely to conjure up shades of the seventies or, if one is moderately well traveled, Central and South America and their sometimes-infamous _discoteca. _ (I, by the way, am not so well-traveled. I'm still taking donations.)

Let's not forget the fun little dual-meaning of _powdering one's nose_. I mean the one that _doesn't _have to do with cocaine.

With regard to office ladies: What is expected of women in Japan (moderately recently, anyway) is that they will work until they are married, at which time they will quit and take care of the house and kids. This sort of person is called a _sengyoushufu. _Although recently (in the last fifteen years), the concept of the _kengyoushufu_ (essentially a working mother)has appeared, this can be a very stressful lot in life as many Japanese women are still expected to shoulder the brunt of the housework and child-rearing responsibilities in a family, as well as the utterly inexplicable _otto no seiwa wo suru,_ or "taking care of the husband." This _sengyoushufu _idea, coupled with some serious undertones of sexism still in Japanese society, has led to many female workers being hired as 'office ladies,' whose function is to do things like make tea and take memos. (They are basically glorified –or perhaps not so glorified—secretaries. It is not a pretty part of Japanese society.

In Japanese society, it is not uncommon to make polite small-talk about the weather. Often times, instead of saying something like, "How are you?" (The nearest Japanese translation of which is considered something to say to a friend whom you haven't seen in a while—a few days, usually) a person with whom you are friendly will comment to you on the weather when you see each other for the first time that day.

--

_Say your goodbyes if you have someone to say goodbye to._

_--_

Chapter 17

How far we've come

Yoshino flopped down on the bed the moment she entered the room, and Rei tried not to worry about it; after all, it had been a long trip, and a long drunk, too. Yoshino had gotten much, much better since her surgery—she rarely had to skip school anymore, and never because she was simply too weak to do much more than get out of bed. Rei had, therefore, tried to tell herself that it was okay to not worry as much, even if Yoshino had to sit down or nap from time to time to get rid of a little fever or some dizziness.

Even so, it was hard. It was sixteen-odd years of experience versus maybe two, if that. Before, if Yoshino had had to sit down—_had to_—there had been a decent chance she wouldn't be able to get up for a couple of hours without feeling dizzy or feverish. It had been stressful and scary, to say the least, and that kind of feeling leaves an impact on a person. Even now, Rei found herself checking herself sometimes to make sure she wasn't handling Yoshino with kid gloves.

_She's a grown girl now. She'll be graduating at the end of the year. She probably won't even stick around after that. If I were in her position, I probably wouldn't, _Rei thought this as Yoshino laid down with a grunt, and her heart sank a little. She had known this plenty well from the very day Yoshino had had her surgery—that since she was able to, she would certainly spread her wings, which meant putting Rei not at arm's length, but at wing's length.

_There's no use thinking about it. You can't do a thing, and if you try, you'll only push her away faster._

_That's the problem with family. People will stay in town for friends, but if it's family, there's something else there…some extra feeling of _well, they have to love me, so it's okay if I ditch them for a while.

_Or forever._

_Stop thinking about it, Rei._

"You feeling all right?" Rei asked, coming to the bed and sitting down gently next to Yoshino.

"Yeah," Yoshino replied, her voice a little hoarse. "Just hung over."

_Was it worth it? Tsk tsk. _

_Don't say it. You need to…_

"Mm."

A moment of silence, and then, from Yoshino, "That's it?"

"What's it?"

"Mmm? That's all I get? No, _was it worth it? _No, _you know your body can't handle that kind of thing?_ Just _mm_?"

Rei shrugged. "You're making your own decisions now, Yoshino. I'm not your mom."

Yoshino scowled and turned over. "What the hell. That doesn't suit you at all."

"Maybe," Rei said. "But maybe it ought to."

Yoshino sat up. She put a hand over Rei's, and smiled. "You're an idiot, Rei."

Rei took a minute to look at Yoshino. Her face was pale and her body was obviously bitching at her about sitting up so suddenly. Her eyes, though, were grinning, just as clearly as her mouth. They masked no falsehood, and were not often able to. And Rei loved that. It wasn't always easy being friends with people like Sei and Sachiko, who so consistently masked their feelings from everybody, so that Rei often found herself acting the adult in order to get them to discuss their feelings rationally. Sometimes she felt like a mother not just to Yoshino, but to everybody, and she knew that that was both arrogant and self-centered, but she couldn't help it. Maybe it was in her nature.

So she was an idiot. And here was Yoshino, a girl who, despite her surgery, didn't have a body strong enough for a night of heavy drinking and then a day of moderate activity, but who regardless was doing her best to comfort such an idiot. And that, in itself could not be anything but stupid.

"And you're related to me. That means it runs in the family."

Yoshino laughed. "We should probably never have children."

Rei thought she was probably right. If Rei was turned out to be as overbearing a mother as her own parent, she would probably just produce another one of herself and the cycle of idiocy would continue.

If she had said that to Yoshino, she might have received a thump upside the head.

Yoshino might have said that the world needed more of Rei.

Something _smashed _outside their room. A massive, overpowering crack, like wood snapping over God's knee, startling them both, but scaring neither. Thunder. Rei looked out the window, as did Yoshino.

Rain, again. It must have taken its head start after the hotel and used it to find a good spot to wait near Kyoto. God was a clever bastard when he put his mind to it.

"Son of a bitch," Yoshino murmured.

"Something the matter?" Rei asked.

"You blind _and _stupid?" Yoshino nudged Rei's sides. "It's raining."

Rei put her arms around her cousin and brought her tight to her breast. "And there's not a thing in the world wrong with that."

Yoshino let herself be held for a moment, and then spoke into Rei's shirt, distinctly less soft than the breast underneath, but just as warm. "You think?"

"I know. It's pretty to look at, and it's not as though it'll stop us from going out if we want. Not that I think you ought to be doing that anyway."

"No way I'm going to miss out on a live house tonight."

Rei started to say something, and then stopped. Yoshino said, "Go on, say it. You won't feel right until you do."

Rei smiled, felt her heart warm, and hoped that this was something that Yoshino could feel in spite of the breast, bra, and shirt between them. "You're not going if you don't feel better. I won't have you collapsing in the middle of a club."

"It's not a club, it's a live house."

"It's got loud music and a balance of people trying to kill one another and people trying to have sex with one another. It's close enough."

Yoshino smiled again, suppressing the urge to laugh, and then dislodged herself from Rei and flopped back down on the bed. "You talk like you've got experience."

"I have. Every mother has, that's how they're allowed to be mothers. That's what youth is—doing things you won't want to tell your kids about in twenty years."

Yoshino smiled. "Rei, the day you turn into my mother I'm dropping out and joining the military or the circus."

Rei blinked, honestly surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You really think you act like my mother?"

"Don't _you_?"

Yoshino shrugged. "Sometimes you act like everybody's mother, but mostly with me, I guess I see you as a caring friend and distant relative."

"Distant?" Rei frowned. They were first cousins and _neighbors, _for God's sake. How much closer could they be? _Or does she mean something else? _She didn't want to think about it.

Yoshino grinned at Rei, a little glint of _something _in her eye.

"Well," she said with an impish smile. "I prefer to think of us as not being _too _closely related."

Rei smiled and pondered that serenely for a while as Yoshino fell asleep to the sound of rain outside of their window. Somehow, the occasional cracks of thunder only made her feel more at peace.

--

Stubbornness was generally not considered an attractive trait in a Lady, as it was often considered to be synonymous with _obstinate, _which was, by many standards, simply a more sophisticated way to say _annoying. _

If there was one thing Sachiko had always struggled with, (and there was) it was this; Sachiko was a strong-willed woman, and she always had been. And out of those who were strong of will, even the most patient had their moments when they would have characterized themselves as stubborn. If she had been asked, she could have called up several recent examples of times in which she had had to force herself (against stubborn resistance, at that) to yield to somebody whom she was quite certain was in the wrong, simply to prevent herself from appearing too stubborn. Or perhaps from _feeling_ too stubborn.

And so, because of this trait which she was adept at suppressing only on days when she had prepared herself to do so (which, in fairness, was most days, but not today, having woken up with a hangover and a girl) she was giving Yumi, as the younger girl would later put it, _a hell of a time getting her to say more than two words in a row._

Because Yumi was stubborn too, in her own way.

She began in the usual way, when the thunder first struck. It took her off-guard, and with Sachiko in the bathroom and thus unable to see her, she flinched and shouted slightly in alarm (she muffled the sound quite adeptly with one hand) and was not worried about being chastised for it. After her heart calmed down, she said, "I think it's starting to rain again, _Onee-sama_," in a voice loud enough to be heard but not too loud to be irritating or insistent, as per regulation. She regarded it as a success as she was ordinarily able to get this right on the first try perhaps once in four tries.

"I see," was her answer, her voice flat. Yumi waited for a moment—perhaps Sachiko was pondering what to say next, or perhaps she was waiting for Yumi to speak next. These were the difficult silences—not the painful nor the awkward ones, but the _I'm done, your turn _silences that came about when one partner was speaking tonelessly, as Ladies were expected to do in a situation in which they should remain calm. Yumi thought that there ought to be some sort of hand gesture to indicate one was done speaking in these cases, and the image which immediately came to her mind was of Sachiko, dressed in a flattering blue dress (because, honestly, what dress was not flattering on Sachiko?) facing a group of faceless old men, saying something flatly, and then waving a pair of air-traffic flags around for a moment in a manner reminiscent of a coordinated dance. She stifled a giggle.

After another moment of nothing, Yumi frowned and said, "It seems like it followed us here, doesn't it?"

"I suppose." Immediate. Toneless. One flag up, one to the left, and then shift ninety degrees clockwise. Cleared for _go. _

_What in the hell._

"Are you excited to go out tonight?"

"I suppose."

Silence again. Yumi felt the first vestiges of frustration creeping up on her. Not an angry frustration—just frustration.

_She was fine two hours ago. What happened so quickly? _

_And what is she doing in there? She has been in there for no less than ten minutes. Powdering one's nose does _not _take that long, no matter how you use the expression. _

"Are you nearly done powdering your nose, _Onee-sama?_"

_Answer _that _with an _I suppose.

Silence for a moment. Then, "No. Do you need to use the restroom?"

_Eight words in a row. Success! _

Yumi was not a devious girl by anybody's standards, but this was in part because her face tended to give her plan away before it was half out of her mouth. Therefore, with a solid, opaque door between her and Sachiko, she was able to be sly without being noticed. "Yes," she said. "Badly. May I come in?"

"I…" Sachiko paused. "Just a moment, please."

Yumi thought she might be better served to simply barge in, but she didn't. She gave Sachiko the requisite moment (equivalent to half a minute in Lady-speak) and then gripped the doorknob and said, "I'm entering." When no fevered objection came from Sachiko, she opened the door.

What she found wasn't what she expected. She had half been expecting to see Sachiko drying her eyes frantically, trying not to look at Yumi, her makeup streaked and a mess; she knew, after all, when Sachiko was _not doing so well. _What she found instead was completely different: Sachiko was simply sitting on the toilet lid, staring not at Yumi but at the wall. Maybe behind the wall. More than this, Yumi noticed that Sachiko was projecting that aura that she sometimes took, usually when her mood was dark; it was an interesting thing—though Yumi had never been the sort of off-kilter spiritualist that claimed to see auras and spirits leaving the body, she felt she could see this, even if she acknowledged it as simply a reaction to a set of stimulus that her mind processed without her permission: The way Sachiko sat, her back straight as it always was, but with her arms folded underneath her breasts instead of set gently in her lap, her legs crossed over one another (almost unthinkable for a proper Lady); the way she didn't even look up to acknowledge that Yumi had entered the room. That, probably, more than anything else; Sachiko was nothing if not responsive.

Yumi took a breath and then went to Sachiko. It was easier than she expected. She smiled, and put her hand on Sachiko's.

Sachiko didn't face her. "What is it?"

Yumi suddenly found it harder to smile. She didn't stop. "I thought I'd come in and talk to you, _Onee-sama_."

"You don't need to use the toilet."

"No." Yumi couldn't help but be a little sheepish.

"Could you please leave me alone, then?" Her tone was not cold, but her words were. The opposite of her norm, but no less hurtful.

Yumi took a step back. "I just thought…you could use somebody to talk to, or…something."

Finally, Sachiko looked at her. Her gaze was not hard, but it was not soft, either. Yumi was used to Sachiko looking at her gently, and was not thinking clearly enough to consider that perhaps she had been spoiled in this respect. "Right now, Yumi, I just want to be by myself a while."

This was something that Yumi could relate to, and certainly it was not a new sentiment coming from Sachiko. When her grandmother had died, certainly she had taken _some time to herself. _ During finals, she had taken plenty of _time to herself_—Yumi had never seen so little of her as during finals season at Lillian School for Girls.

All of this, however, did nothing to explain to her why this time, this _specific _time, rather than just depressing her, it stung.

Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, and certainly the first time since they had

_(oh just say it you silly girl) _

kissed, Yumi had completely and utterly misread Sachiko.

"I'm very sorry, _Onee-sama_," Yumi said as formally as she could, and then bowed and left as quickly as she could without ruffling her

_(you're not wearing a)_

skirt, and shut the door behind her.

She sat on the bed, and Sachiko sat on the toilet.

Neither of them was at peace.

--

Sei wished she smoked. It would give her an excuse to be outside in the rain, just leaning against the wall as she was doing now. In spite of everything, she still could not help but mind a bit when people stared at her; and they did, because she was out of the ordinary, or perhaps not so much so: A pretty girl, leaning against the wall of a cheap hotel which could be rented by the hour, her hips farther towards the sidewalk than her back, which rested against the cheap bricking, her hands in her pockets. It was actually a position in which Sei was able to think very clearly, but for obvious reasons, she tended not to stand like that outside.

_Oh, and the rain doesn't help people not stare at me. I suppose I'm getting thoroughly soaked._

What she thought about was simply this:

Suguru was a cunning opponent. She should probably not have answered Sachiko's phone in the first place.

In a game where you only had to be found to lose, she was probably going to lose. Suguru wouldn't let them go, and he had more resources than she did and more brains than most people gave him credit for. It wasn't a big deal for her; she could work through her stuff with Shimako on her own time. Probably that was for the best anyway, since only she and Rei seemed to be capable of keeping the group entirely on their feet (the burden of being the so-called _adults_), so she needed to be in top form. So to speak.

But for Sachiko…

She didn't want to be caught for Sachiko's sake. Sachiko was a girl who didn't really get out much (though she technically did, Sei didn't count family events). So, when she finally did, Sei wanted her to enjoy herself, but it was more than that.

_The one night the quiet girl really cuts loose and you think that all that time whittling away at her was maybe worth it, it's a nice feeling for the person who bought the booze and set the whole thing up. But more than that, unless you can keep inviting her out, or stick close to her for a while afterwards, she usually just tightens up even more after that, like she's overcompensating. I feel like if this thing ends prematurely, we might not see the _good _Sachiko again after she leaves for University. _

Sei sighed. _I'm involving myself in this a bit too much. Sachiko can take care of herself; she's an adult now. Probably moreso than I am. _

_But even so…_

Even so, she couldn't avoid the simple fact that she, like everybody else in their little group, simply wanted happiness for Sachiko.

_It seems funny. There are hundreds of millions of people on this planet who would give their firstborn—and probably any other kids they may have—for the kind of money she was born into. This whole thing just seems overblown sometimes. Probably Sachiko would say the same thing._

_But at the same time…it's not easy being born into such a one-track life. She has virtually no options as to where her life will go, and while it will certainly land her in a better place than those in poverty, she has no more choices. I don't even think _I _could do that; to not be able to leave my house without permission; to not be able to choose who I spend my time with; to not be able to flirt or get shitfaced with a pretty girl; to not be able to feel her up or fuck her depending on how rambunctious I'm feeling that night; to not be able to tell a man who rests his hand under your ass at a party to get fucked if he's got enough money. She can go to college but she can't do shit with her degree. Even if she does do this writing thing she talked about, she probably won't be allowed to publish anything, at least not till her parents bite it and Suguru's in charge of the company, and who knows what he'll say then. Maybe he'll actually listen to her, or maybe he'll be okay just never seeing her at all. I wonder if _she'd _be all right with that. _

_At the same time, would it be any different if she were just an average, middle-class woman who gets her degree, works as an office lady making tea for fifteen years, and then retires when she gets married to stay at home and play tennis and go learn French and clean? She still doesn't get to choose where she ends up, just her man. _

_Hell. That's depressing. Now I _really _want to take up smoking. _

Sei stood up straight, and something moved in the corner of her eye.

"You were pondering things you would do better not to worry about," Shimako said by way of greeting. "Weren't you." It wasn't a question.

"And just what do you mean by that?" Sei asked.

"Just that you can't always fix things by thinking hard on them. If that were the case, the world would be a much better place."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"It would be better for me, anyway."

Sei smiled. "You want to take up smoking together?"

"That's bad for you, _Onee-sama_."

"So they tell me. But certainly it can't be any worse for you than _pondering things you would do better not to worry about_."

"Maybe. Maybe you should come out of the rain before you catch cold."

_I can never decide if she doesn't give a shit what I'm thinking, or just doesn't think it'll do me any good._

_Or maybe she _is _just concerned that I'll catch cold. _

"Maybe I should. I guess it's getting kind of chilly, huh."

"I can tell," Shimako said in a musing tone. It took Sei only a moment to remember that the shirt she was wearing had not been loose-fitting when it was dry, and therefore left very little to the imagination now, especially with regards to the temperature. (Though it was not white, so she still maintained her dignity.)

Sei grinned, gave a little _oops, _and, to the credit of every nun at Lillian who had tried their very best to mold the woman into a proper Lady, blushed and turned away from the street, folding her arms over her breasts.

Shimako smiled, and, a little shyly, took her friend by the arm and led her inside, both of them shivering and dripping. The boy at the counter ogled them openly, and while Shimako did her best to ignore him, Sei flipped him a rude gesture, to the credit of every rock-and-roll concertgoer she had ever spent more than half an hour with.

"That was a terrible idea," Sei said as she stepped into the elevator.

Shimako didn't say anything. Sei didn't ask her to. Shimako let go of Sei's arm and Sei didn't question her. She would do her own thing.

The elevator _dinged_. Shimako walked out ahead of Sei, and folded her arms underneath her breasts.

_What in the hell? Sage advice to cold shoulder in five seconds flat? Is she just upset about getting ogled? _

They entered their room. There was silence for a moment, in which Shimako looked not at Sei but _around _her, willing her vision to pass the girl entirely. After the moment had passed, she said, "Please use the shower ahead of me, _Onee-sama_."

_Oh._

_Not this again._

Shimako grinned as best she could. "Don't worry. I won't…you know. Do that again."

Shimako was shivering as she said it. Her body was probably weaker than Sei's. Sei was colder, but Shimako was more likely to catch cold, and the odds of her actually agreeing to go in before Sei were slim to none.

_And I don't think we're quite ready to be showering together yet._

_This is going to disappoint the hell out of her._

"You use this one. I'll go over to…" _Not Sachiko's room. As tempting as it is with Yumi in there, no. _"Rei's room and use hers."

This was probably the kindest thing she could have done. Shimako nodded, a little gratefully, and visibly relaxed.

Sei grinned, patted her on the shoulder in what was quite possibly the worst gesture she could have made (though she did not understand this, for all her experience and knowledge) and left the room.

Rei's room was just down the hall, and she knocked, hoping she could get a good reaction out of Rei.

She got no such luck. Rei opened the door quietly, and whispered, "What happened to you?"

_Yoshino must be asleep. _Sei whispered back, "It's raining outside."

"I noticed. What were you doing out there?"

"Getting wet." As an afterthought, "To come over here." By itself, this was nothing, but Sei gave such a grin with it that Rei broke down and smiled. "You need to use our shower, is that it?"

"When did you get psychic powers?" Sei asked as Rei let her in.

"You and Shimako ought not to be showering in the same room for a while."

"My question stands."

"I pay attention is all, Sei. You'd be amazed what you can catch if you keep your eyes and ears open, and don't look for anything specific. I think if I wanted to think that you two were having an affair I'd have no idea what was actually going on."

Sei smiled. She liked Rei, and this was why. Rei was probably the brightest girl this side of the Pacific, except when it came to Yoshino. And even then, most of the time, she had a leg up on everyone else, Yoshino herself included.

"I won't be long."

"Take your time. You look cold." Rei glanced at exactly the same place Shimako had.

Again, Sei blushed only a little. Maybe it was her day to be hit on by her friends.

She shut the door behind her, and Rei said, "I'll hang your clothes up."

"Where?"

"Closet. Normally I'd be worried about the carpeting, but frankly, I think that's the last thing to worry about in these rooms."

"At least they get hot water."

"For about ten minutes."

"Does that mean there's none left?"

"Just an estimate."

Sei began to peel her clothes off—they came off a little like a second skin. Rei brought her a towel, and Sei did not notice Rei's eyes dawdling a little bit. This was probably for the best. As Sei walked into the bathroom, Rei said, "You know, you're not going to have dry clothes for the concert."

"That's fine. Nothing stays entirely dry at a live house anyway."

"Too much information, my friend. I'll dry them off with a hair dryer after you're out."

"That's not entirely pleasant."

"You'll get by."

Sei shut the door and Rei took her clothes to the small walk-in closet. Hanging them up, she paused. _Hair dryer. _

She walked to the bathroom. She didn't notice that there was no sound from the shower. She opened the door, not bothering to peek inside first; maybe it was just that she was too used to living with Yoshino, around whom she felt no real sense of modesty. Regardless, entering, she got a very good view of something about which Sei had only recently begun to feel modest about again.

Rei froze, for the first time in a long time, her eyes locked on Sei. Sei looked back, also frozen, not really sure how to react. On the one hand, there shouldn't have been much to be embarrassed about; Sei was Rei's senior by a year, and while the two hadn't been close, precisely, they had been friendly, anyway. But on the other hand, both of them suddenly felt the urge to look away, though neither could. Both felt like deer in headlights.

It was Rei who moved first, pulling the door shut quickly, putting a hand to her chest, and taking a deep breath.

Sei remained frozen for a moment.

They both thought something to the effect of, _What in the hell was that? _

Yoshino, who was, in truth, awake, and had been watching, thought something distinctly different—significantly less pretty, significantly more bitter.

It was never, after all, a pretty scene when two women compared attributes of themselves over which they had no real control.

--

The sun was setting, and that was when all the naughty boys and girls came out of their hotel rooms and flocked to Kyoto's nightlife like moths to a blowtorch.

That, at least, was what Sachiko thought. She looked out the window, and saw nothing but the bricking of the neighboring building. She strained her head, and got a peek at the sidewalk—still crowded.

Yumi sat on the bed, looking at Sachiko—the two had been watching television up until this point, which had been interesting unto itself, since Sachiko watched television perhaps once a month. This had only lasted them so long—Sachiko had found that she was having a hard time dealing with the awkward silence between the two of them; she had snapped a little harshly at Yumi in the bathroom, who had simply been trying to help, but she couldn't quite bring herself to broach the topic. She knew that if Yumi would only bring it up, she could apologize on the spot, but for some reason, she felt a sort of fear at the prospect of bringing it up herself. As if maybe Yumi would snap at her.

_This sort of timid attitude doesn't suit you at all. _

_But it should. Isn't that what the boys all want? _

A knock at their door. Sei's voice: "We're getting ready to go. Are you in your Sunday best? Or, failing that, your Saturday night best?"

Both of them were dressed only in towels, having both showered after their little ordeal (Sachiko, it turned out, was still feeling a little sick from the previous day, as was Yumi). Yumi looked at Sachiko, Sachiko looked at Yumi, and they both stifled a giggle, and Sachiko felt a touch of relief. _It's not so bad, maybe. Maybe I can even, soon…_

"Not quite," Yumi called. "Give us about ten minutes, please."

"Slowpokes," Sei called. "I'm coming in here in ten minutes, so please feel free to wait another nine to start dressing."

Sachiko shook her head.

"What?" Yumi said, and in her voice was something Sachiko had not expected—something which was not anger or frustration, but a little near it.

"I…nothing."

_Is she that angry?_

"All right. We should probably get changed. Would you like to use…" Yumi stopped and shook her head. "No, I'll use the bathroom." She stood up.

"Yumi, I—" Sachiko paused, and then stood up. "I'm very sorry if I offe…no, if I hurt your feelings before." She gave a little bow. "I really am, so don't be angry."

Yumi shook her head. "I'm not angry, _Onee-sama_. Sometimes, it's just…hard when I just want to help, but get nowhere but shut out. Please just give me a little time to get over it."

_When you put it that way, it sounds awfully selfish._

_Maybe it is._

Sachiko nodded. "Please feel free to change in the bathroom."

Yumi nodded back, picked up her clothes, folded on the bed, and headed into the bathroom. Sachiko didn't like the way she shut the door behind her—it was not ladylike, but that didn't bother her. What bothered her was that it felt deliberately so.

--

Suguru was relatively sure this would be the place. It was the "big-name" joint in Kyoto, one of the few that out-of-towners would be able to find easily, thanks to several road signs that didn't seem to have been afforded to any of the other live houses in the city. After all, with reputation came power.

He knew this all too well. The problem was, with reputation also came bitterness, because keeping up a reputation to please others meant not living within the bounds of one's own sanity.

--

"We'll be back," Rei said to the boy at the front desk, who looked half asleep. He didn't respond, and Rei supposed that was best, since she didn't feel like going out of her way to knock his head around again. They headed out the door, grateful for the break from the rain, though not so pleased with the humidity it had brought. Sachiko and Shimako, in particular, had noticed their hair starting to curl a bit throughout the day, though both of them had wet heads at this point, so it wasn't a big deal. Sei wondered, as she stood a safe distance from Rei

_(what in the hell was that, anyway?)_

_(I haven't seen anybody react to me naked like that since…maybe Rei is not so observant as I'd thought)_

if Sachiko's wet head, in particular, might be a blunt-force hazard at the live house, though in the next moment, she considered that the girl would have to start bouncing and probably head-banging for this to be a problem, and the very idea of that made her want to giggle.

"How are we getting there?" Yoshino asked, from her spot a little _too _near Rei.

"Walking," Sei responded. "You gonna be all right?"

"Of course I will." A little obstinate. Yoshino was, indeed, a territorial beast.

Sei herself felt a little bit of anxiety. She was probably being stupid, but she couldn't shake that phone call with Suguru. That fucker was _smart_ and that fucker was _rich, _and the two together did not make for a pleasant opponent in anything but cards, where Goddess Luck could take a dump on any rich, smart motherfucker at any time, and, indeed, often did. (Sei liked cards.)

And so they walked. Sei tried to take Rei's advice, and simply _observed_:

Shimako and Yumi were conversing. Sachiko was walking slightly behind Yumi, talking to nobody (Sei thought that she should probably fix that, and indeed, began to drop back a bit in the pack). Rei was walking and trying not to knock ankles with Yoshino, who didn't seem to want to move more than three centimeters away from her cousin.

_Could Yoshino have been awake? That_

(what the fuck was it)

_would certainly trigger her territorial instincts. _

She was more concerned about Sachiko, and so, moved back to talk to her.

"Had another shower, did you?" Sei asked, keeping her voice pleasant.

"I found I was feeling mildly ill even after breakfast, or perhaps due to breakfast," Sachiko responded diplomatically, not wanting, perhaps, to say outright, _that Prairie Oyster was probably the most disgusting thing I've ever had in my life. _"A hot shower felt quite nice."

"Be careful with that hair of yours, all right? You go flinging it around the live house too much, you could hurt somebody."

Sachiko simply stared at Sei, and Sei couldn't help it—she laughed aloud, quickly covering her mouth with one hand as she attracted the attention of the rest of them, a move which was the result of years of training and social indoctrination.

They rounded a corner and saw a large, neon sign in katakana which read, _Taku Taku. _Sei said, "Okay, everybody, let's pair up. Remember to use the buddy system, and don't let your partner get lost, raped, or high, children." She clapped her hands twice, as though she were addressing third graders.

They had advanced about five meters when they realized that Sachiko had stopped following them. They turned around, looked at her, and found that she was staring at a black car, parked along the sidewalk they were taking. They looked back at the car.

The window rolled down, and Suguru Kashiwagi said, very politely, "Good evening, everybody. I trust you braved the rain successfully."

He then met Sachiko's gaze, and said, "Sa-chan. I am glad you have had a good time, but I think it's time that we went home. Your parents are very upset with me for…" he appeared to struggle with the next words, "losing you, and they are worried that this will translate into an appearance of my weakness before the shareholders."

To Sei this sounded remarkably sexist, but Sachiko understood. She understood all too well.

She nodded. Suguru got out of the car, and Sachiko passed the group without a word, giving only a stray glance towards Yumi, who met it with wide eyes that bordered on fearful.

Sei moved, fast as a cat, and caught Sachiko's arm. Sachiko stopped, but didn't look up.

"Please," Sachiko said, subdued. "I need to go."

"The hell you do," Sei replied.

"Sei," Rei said. "What are you going to do? Kidnap her?" She put a hand on Sei's shoulder, and Yoshino stepped forward.

"To hell with that," she spat angrily, her mouth picking up the Sei's vulgarity in a way that ought to have made Rei uncomfortable. "Sachiko, you're a grown woman, you can make your own damn choices."

"She's right, Sei," Rei said. Yoshino glanced at Yumi, who was looking away. She didn't see Yumi biting her lip, hard enough to make it bleed.

Sei took her hand off of Sachiko and said, "Okay, fine. You're a grown woman. Make your _own _choice." As she said this last bit, she looked not at Sachiko but at Suguru, who did not quite meet her gaze as he usually did.

Sachiko hesitated for a minute, a bit like a hanging computer. She took a look at Yumi, who could not bring herself to look up. Who, in fact, was struggling just to keep upright, by Sei's estimate. Then she looked at Suguru, maybe seeing something in his impassive face that Sei couldn't see, or maybe couldn't understand.

And then she kept walking. She took a seat in the car.

Suguru allowed Sachiko to pass, and then sat down next to her. Yoshino wore a look that was remarkably similar to that of a woman betrayed.

"You're a son of a bitch," Sei said. "Did you know that?"

Suguru met her gaze, and then, incredibly, dropped it, looking away. "I look forward to playing cards with you again, Miss Satou."

Sei did not know what to say to that.

He closed the door. The car started.

And in the span of no more than two minutes, their vacation had ended.

It looked like rain again.

--

Ryuusuke Amasegawa, the owner and proprietor of Velvet Rose, had rather been hoping to act the gentleman and the hero and rescue Sachiko Ogasawara from the clutches of this man. He had even been willing to brave the big, scary motherfuckers he had seen come into his restaurant for this. He had been not twenty meters behind Sachiko when she first saw Suguru. He had made the decision to come to town after Suguru had stopped by his place asking after Sachiko—it hadn't sat quite right with him. At best, he had thought, he would get to enjoy a show by _Thirty Matchboxes_, and at worst…

_Well, this _is "_at worst."_

But then he had seen the way she walked. The way she simply got into the car, without any objections, save for that one glance at Yumi. And he knew that any effort on his part would just be rubbing salt in the wound, because she was going home, one way or another.

So, as they drove off, it was all he could do to make eye contact with Sachiko as she drove by. He didn't smile, he only looked. He hoped he looked sympathetic, but he couldn't be sure. He knew, though, that she had seen him, as well.

So, he, who had taken such an unusual shine to such unusual girls who had simply wandered into his shop, could not help Sachiko. He wanted to. It was in his nature. But he couldn't.

It was all he could do, then, to help her friends, gathering them up, paying special attention to Yumi, who had begun to cry very quietly—even going so far as to put one arm around her, which she did not reject—and lead them back to their hotel, which Rei directed them to.

He spent most of the rest of the night with Yumi, Shimako, and Sei, the latter of whom spent most of the time holding the former's hand while the former fell asleep, her eyes red from crying. He met also with Rei and Yoshino, and reinforced Rei's insistence that there was absolutely nothing that could be done for Sachiko at this point, in spite of Yoshino's fierce urges to _go after that motherfucker and have his head. _

Other than that, he knew very well that there was absolutely nothing that he could do.

Because, Ryuusuke had seen the look in Suguru's eyes when he dropped Sei's gaze. Rei had seen it too, and they both understood.

There was nothing Suguru could do, either.

When you were fucked, sometimes you were just fucked.

--

Very early that morning, when everybody else had finally gotten to sleep, Ryuusuke called Chiharu for the first time in half a year and asked her if she would like to get a cup of coffee with a man who hadn't slept at all. He woke her and, apparently, her man for the night, who sounded angry.

She agreed, and they made plans to meet. When he hung up, he told her he loved her. She paused a moment before hanging up, and he smiled, satisfied knowing he had gotten to her a little.


	21. 18: Facade

I broke up with my girlfriend of 3 years not two weeks ago, so this chapter is going to be dark as a motherfucker. Enjoy.

--

_Your façade can't disguise the fact that you're in misery. _

_--_

Chapter 18

Part one

Façade

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?" Ryuusuke asked Sei as she dried her hair with a towel, her skin glowing, wrapped in a robe, from the hot shower, but her eyes lacking their usual vigor. She wore only a towel as she did this, but neither she nor Ryuusuke seemed to be terribly aware of it, each for their own reason—Ryuusuke, because he had returned from "visiting" Chiharu not half an hour ago. (They had, in fact, "visited" several times that day, and Ryuusuke didn't think he had it in him to ogle Sei's cleavage, no matter how appetizing, or how long he and Chiharu had napped after.) "I can close up the restaurant for a few days without too much trouble."

"Thanks, Ryuusuke," Sei replied, her voice flat. "But I don't think so."

Ryuusuke frowned. He knew he was being a bit of a pest, but damn it, she had agreed to see him.

But really, she was right. What the hell _could _he do? He had known Sachiko for all of two hours. It wasn't like _he _could talk that guy—Suguru, apparently—out of doing what he had to do.

_Even so. _

_It feels wrong._

He knew it was going to bother him. He hated that feeling. Chiharu had given him that feeling for many years. The feeling that there was shit he could do, no matter what he wanted.

_But why isn't there anything I can do? Who the hell says?_

_Well, you. Sei isn't helping, either, but I think the first one to admit it was you._

_That's shit._

"So then, what are _you _going to do?"

"There's nothing we can do. I told you that, twice."

And she believed it. It was strange—in the half day since Sachiko had 'left,' the two who had fought her departure, Yoshino and Sei, the two with the most hot sauce in them, had kind of…deflated. Yumi had been openly depressed, crying till her eyes were red and puffy several times, and Shimako had seemed sullen, at best, but Sei and Yoshino seemed...

_Defeated._

That was a good word for it. Like they had fought the law, and the law had won, big time.

_So where the hell did their hot sauce go? They just spit it out the second it starts to burn? _

Chiba, Beck's rapper, would not have approved.

Ryuusuke didn't, either.

_So then, where's your own hot sauce? _

Ryuusuke didn't think of himself as a naïve person. Not at all. He had seen wa-ay too much to hold onto childish hope where there was none.

But damn it, this wasn't a matter of foolish belief in the impossible. This was a person's free will. Sachiko got into the car on her own power; it had been her own two legs that propelled her, but not her will. Even he had seen that, and he had been blocks away.

So what the fuck were they doing? He saw girls here who were loyal to their friend, and yet, now, when one of them needed their help the most, what the fuck were they doing?

_When you're fucked, you're fucked. That's the way of the world._

"You said it, anyway. When you're fucked, you're fucked."

_Like a god damn mind reader._

Ryuusuke met Sei's gaze, and something sparked in both of their eyes. Sei looked away. She looked so god damn_ tired_, and he didn't understand, but he had the feeling that if he'd been along with them the entire way through, he might.

_Fuck it._

He grinned. "Yeah, that's true."

Sei nodded and looked away.

"So then, why do you look so tired?"

Sei looked back at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" he sighed. "Okay. I'm going to be honest with you, and you're going to be honest with me back, okay?"

She frowned. "You know, I'm only wearing a towel. I feel a little strange about making that deal only wearing a towel. I think it's the lady in me."She grinned a little.

He blinked for a moment, and understood, and had to stop himself from laughing.

"Okay, then. Tell you what. You gather the troops." She eyed him for a moment, and blinked. "No, scratch that. I'll gather the troops, and we'll all go out for coffee. And maybe you just tell me again what I said to you, or maybe not."

She blinked. "What?"

"You got some hot sauce in you, Sei, and it kills me to see you spit it out like this," he said with a grin.

Sei paused for a minute, and then burst into laughter. "Hot sauce? What the hell does that even _mean?_ That's awful."

He shrugged. "And even so. Get some clothes on, and I'll come get you in a few minutes."

She nodded, and he stood to leave. As he did, he _noticed_. And while he didn't intend to make a show of it, Sei was a _very _pretty girl.

She laughed again. "Keep dreaming, barkeep."

He smiled and left.

Sei shook her head. _What in the hell. _She took off her robe, paused a moment, and then locked the door. She liked him, but she didn't know him, after all. And she didn't like him _that _much.

_This is silly, Sei, _her reasonable side told her. _You should just go home. You lost, and you know it._

_That's true, _her unreasonable side agreed. _Plus, what the hell are you going to do? Burst into her house and kidnap her? Try and reason with _Suguru, _of all people? Even if you beat his head in, it wouldn't do any good. He'd just grow another one. _

Even so. She felt like she couldn't just sit and do nothing.

_That would only create more trouble for Sachiko._

_Trouble. Who needs more of that in their lives?_

Maybe Sachiko did. And in a flash, it came to Sei.

That was it.

That was the rub.

Sachiko was a girl who abhorred trouble, and sometimes, to see what needed to be seen, you had to get pissed off. Or annoyed. Or _something. _Anything. What the hell kind of strong emotion could you possibly feel sitting around in your house all day, waiting to be married off or go to university or whatever it was the Ogasawaras had in store for her? Hell, that was why Sei kept a summer job—not because she needed the money (it helped, but her mother paid for her schooling) but because if she didn't, she'd go out of her fucking mind.

And really, how much growing could somebody do in that kind of state?

Maybe it was time for Sachiko to do some growing. Two days and she'd already shot up like a fucking beanstalk. Imagine what a couple of years would do.

She pulled her clothes on quickly, her mind racing.

It was only on her way out the door that she realized that that son of a bitch Ryuusuke had been right.

It really _was _hot sauce that they needed. Just a little was enough.

Sei threw her head back and laughed aloud. "That's so awful," she said to nobody in particular. "Hot sauce. What in the hell does that even mean?"

She knew.

She'd probably die before she admitted it to Ryuusuke, though.

--

"Sa-chan," Suguru said gently, "If you are hungry, you should tell me before we leave the city. I doubt there will be much of a chance to eat between here and Tokyo, and it is several hours away."

Sachiko said nothing. She was staring out the window, almost intently, as though she was half-expecting to see Yumi tearing down the road after her on a motorcycle, perhaps with Sei on her back, wielding a machine gun. While dangerous, Sachiko thought that probably nothing would make her happier. The driver looked back for a moment, feeling perhaps a pang of concern for the girl, but saying nothing. All he knew was that _he _wouldn't want what Sachiko had for his little girl. Not ever.

After a minute or two, Suguru said, "I'll not trouble you, then, but I'd like to ask you something."

"Yes?" Even now, Sachiko could not help it: _You will respond promptly when addressed. _She hoped he didn't mistake her prompt reaction for anything but what it was—training—but at the same time, she didn't care. It didn't matter, anyway. He would do what he wished—what the family wished. What the company wished. _What is necessary for the future prosperity of our family and our company is what I will do._

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

He was not berating her. His tone was not condescending.

He was honestly curious. And there was something more…a sort of hope in his voice.

It was almost too much for Sachiko to bear. She had been able to clear her mind and hold herself in check as she got into the car and drove off, but now she felt that it was simply too much.

_Did I enjoy myself, he asks. _

_I felt like I was really…living. There were good and bad things, but I was living them both. I was doing things. I was feeling things. I was out in the world, with my friends and no _financial backing. _What troubles there were I would have had to deal with on my own, or with only the help of my friends, none of whom have_ connections.

Her lip began to quiver, and she pressed her forehead against the window, as if to force what she felt back down. It didn't work, and a moment later, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

She took about five minutes to steady herself, doing her best to simultaneously empty her mind and think of a good way to answer his question. It wasn't easy, and she didn't wind up doing a very good job, because after those five minutes, she spoke and found that her voice was still trembling.

"We would have probably come home tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, at the latest," she said. "And while I was very much looking forward to seeing a live, I'm sure I'll survive without the experience. So you haven't truly cut that much off of our trip. In addition, I understand that being the heir to the Ogasawara group's presidency puts a great deal of pressure on you to appear strong and decisive in front of the old men who comprise our board of directors and think the phrase _housewife _is redundant."

Suguru nodded, and Sachiko took a deep breath, and decided she would prove to herself that she had grown, if only a little bit.

"But even so," she said, her voice veritably tremoring, "I cannot, at this moment, stop myself from hating you, Suguru."

That was really why they would kill the messengers. Not because they blamed the messengers for the news they brought, but because the news they brought was so unbearable that they would simply hate whoever was nearby.

"I will be married to you shortly anyway. Please don't…" she swallowed. "Please don't try and come near me until then."

_Trying on dresses._

_That was what it was. Something so stupid and inane. Mother and I were to begin shopping for a wedding gown tomorrow. _

_I think I might die. _

"Shouldn't that be the other way around?" Suguru asked, his voice hardening slightly, and his words took Sachiko like a right hook to the jaw.

And then she laughed, bitterly. And for the first time in many, many years, pondered if it would be so bad to simply fling herself out the door and into traffic.

"Yes. I suppose it should," she said quietly. "It was me, after all, who visited your room, so late at night. Then, I will make a note to also stay away from you until we're married."

_(Not thinking about that.)_

_Who the hell cares anymore. Who the fucking hell cares about what I'm not thinking about. _

_I was the one who gave in first, after all. Who didn't put up a fight. He gave in to those awful old men, and I gave in to my baser desires, into feelings I haven't really had for years. Since shortly after I met Yumi. _

_Since I no longer had a need for such feelings._

_But it was just so _damn _lonely in that house. I don't know how my mother survives. I suppose mother also receives attention from father sometimes. I receive none. None. With Yumi there, it wasn't so bad—even if we didn't touch, we _connected. _And I couldn't connect with Suguru, not like that. So… _

_(Sa-chan? What do you want, so late at night?)_

_(Please, Suguru. Please.)_

_(Please wha--) _

His lips, too, had been warm, inviting. He was truly a beautiful, handsome man. That was what she had noticed first, but his quiet kindness was what had truly won her over. The way he, too, had had to deny who he was, and the pain it had brought him, because painful experiences often served to make one kinder, more aware of the emotions of others. The skin of his chest had been soft and warm under her fingers. And for a moment, a spare moment, she had thought that he might give in to her. To _it. _To that thing which all the men at the parties, with their wandering eyes and their wandering hands, seemed to desire.

But he hadn't. He had very nearly thrown her off of him. And he had not asked her what she was thinking, because she could tell that he knew. And she could tell he was sorry that he could not give it to her.

_How is he possibly going to survive on our wedding night? He'll be expected to impregnate me within only a few weeks. That's my job, after all. To be his wife, and to produce his children. That's why my parents scoffed at the idea of university. How can I go to university if I'm pregnant? I'm supposed to take care of the children. That's my job._

That was the level on which they truly connected.

But such a connection could not form the basis of a relationship. Not really.

Certainly not the kind of relationship that she wanted. Thatshe needed.

She closed her eyes and forced her tears to stop. It wasn't a hard thing, not really. She just had to empty her mind, force a smile, and wait.

_But what am I waiting for?_

_(For it to go away. There's no need to inform others that you are suffering. Suffering alone is enough.)_

Yes.

Suffering alone was enough.

Another moment of silence. She found she was not quite comfortable with it, but at the same time, she was grateful, because it meant she didn't have to speak with Suguru. Suguru, however, did not feel the same, as after another minute he said, with an almost hesitant voice, "Sa-chan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"No," she said quietly, "you did. And I deserved it. It was a terrible thing I did."

"It wasn't," Suguru said. "It was probably the right thing to do."

"To you?"

"We'll have to at some point."

Sachiko laughed bitterly. "When you put it like that, I can hardly wait."

Suguru shook his head. "It's no easier for me than it is for you, Sa-chan. Maybe harder."

Sachiko had a hard time believing this, but the reasonable part of her also recognized that she was not in Suguru's shoes, and in fact, had never tried to put herself there. She supposed she probably couldn't start just now, but at the same time, that little thought popped into her head, and she couldn't quite ignore it.

_Maybe it's just as hard for him._

_Maybe he has a _

_(just say it.)_

_Yumi. _

"If I may, sir," one of the men said from up front, giving Sachiko a start. She was very much used to having anonymous people around serving her, but was not used to them listening to her conversations. Maybe she should learn to be more careful.

"Yes?" Suguru replied. He didn't sound annoyed. Perhaps these were more than just drivers to him, or perhaps he was simply a patient man. It was surprising that somebody in his employ would speak up at all, so perhaps it was just that.

"Perhaps you should use a turkey baster."

Suguru paused for about half a second, and then, completely unexpectedly, burst out laughing.

Sachiko had to consider for about two seconds, and then she too giggled, completely in spite of herself.

_I can't remember the last time I thought I could say something like that freely._

Suguru laughed longer and harder, but they were both merry for perhaps two more minutes. The man up front, from his reflection in the rearview mirror, had a small grin on his face.

When they had settled down, Suguru said, "Sachiko, what happened to the days when we could say something like that?"

"Could we ever?"

"I could, at some point. Before I was melded into the Ogasawaras."

And for some reason, Sachiko felt that she might speak openly, if only once, with Suguru. Maybe it was the way the atmosphere in the car had suddenly become just a bit lighter. Maybe it was simply the way Suguru had seemed…almost guilty about coming to get her.

And so…

She admitted.

"I agree," she said quietly.

It was not lost on Suguru. He raised an eyebrow but was silent.

"I think…I think this is terrible. This whole thing. We have enough money to be comfortable but apparently not enough status, or maybe we can just never have too much. It's…" she was taught never to say it, but she said it anyway. "not fair." _Nothing is fair, Sachiko, and you will not complain. Ladies do not complain. They bear with. _

"There are many people who would kill for what we have, Sa-chan," Suguru said quietly, as though it was a requisite response.

"I'd give it to them if they asked. I'd trade. I was never given a choice in this."

"We cannot help our birth," Suguru said.

"Even so. I feel like I'm being punished for it."

Suguru smiled. "I feel the same way," he said quietly. "The last thing I wanted to do was come and get you. To wrench you away from what was quite possibly your last chance to _let go._"

"Can't we at least have our separate lives when we're married?"

Suguru sighed. "To some end. But at the same time, the men of the board are…suspicious over certain aspects of my…" he appeared to struggle. "Personality. They don't wish to see me turn out like my uncle."

"So we'd have to be discreet."

"Which is only bearable for so long before it too becomes simply one more formality to observe."

Sachiko nodded.

_When you're screwed, you're screwed._

At least she'd be able to see Yumi. If only _discreetly._

But how long could she ask Yumi to do that? Certainly not their whole lives.

_Those old men have to die eventually._

_So I what? Live my life waiting for them to die or retire? That's horrible. _

Sachiko leaned back in her seat. She felt a little less like crying, if only from finally coming to acknowledge that there was somebody else who shared what seemed a lot like her fate.


	22. 18: Facade, part two

--

Part two begins. As I'm attempting a more positive outlook (the alternative being falling into a damn pit) this half is the upbeat to the previous chapter's downbeat.

And yes, they do do some signal processing at Nintendo. So Ryuusuke's not completely stupid. :)

--

_Who cares who's there to stare and tell you how to look. I'm not sure they even know you by name. _

_Who cares who's there to share what they think of you? Everybody here plays the same fucking games_

--

Chapter 18, part two

Energy

Yumi looked fairly good compared to how she'd looked the day before. Her eyes were dry, although still red, but she was clearly alert and, though Ryuusuke hesitated to count it as a victory, not looking as if she wanted to simply die. Perhaps it was the hot cup of tea in front of her. Tea had a calming effect on many people, even caffeinated tea.

_Like beer for the soul._

The thought made him smile. Ryuusuke was an avid beer drinker—in a way which only one who described himself as _avid _about beer could be. Sei—who professed a public love of sake and a private love of very nice red wines and who considered beer, no matter where it came from, to be little but horse piss and vinegar (and alcohol, which had become her excuse for drinking it)—might have laughed. Rei would have understood thoroughly.

They sat in a small coffee shop on one of Kyoto's less busy streets (though when one compared this to the smaller towns outside of the city, one realized that "less busy" was a truly relative term) clustered around two tables they'd pulled together. Yoshino looked less furious, which may have been Rei's fault. Shimako sat next to Sei. Yumi sat on Sei's other side, flanked by Yoshino. Each had one of her hands.

They simply…looked better.

Ryuusuke wasn't sure how to take that. In a backward part of his mind, he knew he didn't like it—he felt like they should still be in mourning for their friend. She wasn't dead, but still. And yet, they looked all right. Not great, but all right.

_But why _wouldn't _you want them to be all right?_

_Because doesn't that mean that their affections are…I don't know. Fake?_

_No. _Ryuusuke refused to believe that. Though it was his initial reaction, something he rarely strayed from, he pushed it aside this time, squishing whatever passed for logic in his oft-cynical brain.

Sei folded her hands on the table. "So," she said quietly. "We need to make a decision, and we need to make it fast."

"I don't really think there's a decision to be made," Rei said, her voice gentle.

"And I," Sei replied, "think you're a very rational, reasonable person for saying that. I don't think, personally, that rationality and reason is what is what this situation begs for, but I guess that's what we're going to be making a decision about."

"What are you suggesting?" Shimako asked.

"That we do something fucking stupid," Sei said with a grin. "Something we won't regret."

"That would what kind of stupid we're talking about," Shimako said. "We're playing a dangerous game, _Onee-sama_."

"I believe you're the only one who called it a game."

Shimako frowned.

"Sei, I understand your frustration," Rei said, "but this is Sachiko's life. Not ours."

_Oh, to hell with that shit, _Ryuusuke thought.

This was the problem with reasonability. Because that was certainly a perfectly reasonable answer—and a correct one, to some end. It was, indeed, Sachiko's life, and it was nobody's place to interfere with it. Therefore, anybody who did was in the wrong, and that was the long and the short of it. That was the only conclusion a reasonable person could arrive at—after all, Sachiko hadn't been kidnapped. She had walked into a car with her own two legs. She was living her own life, and it was her life to live.

But _fuck _that. "Are you serious?" Ryuusuke said. Rei looked surprised—she had rather assumed the man would be an observer in their deliberations; after all, Sachiko wasn't even his friend. He barely knew her. Nobody reasonable would put themselves on the line like that—especially not going after people as powerful as the Ogasawaras. "You saw the way she looked going into that car. I wouldn't call that living _her _life, would you?"

"It's true," Rei acknowledged, "That she was probably influenced to some extent by…things she would be better off ignoring if she could, but she can't necessarily ignore them. We don't know the ins and outs of her life like she does."

"And we don't need to. Hell, we're better off _not _knowing. I don't want to know what kind of powerful shit I'm poking at when I poke at it."

"I don't think you're quite familiar enough with the situation to be making comments like that," Rei said coldly. "You sound like you're trying to stir up trouble for the sake of looking masculine and strong. Or perhaps simply feeling that way."

_Ouch. And to some end, hell, she's probably right. _

"Kinda harsh, Rei," Sei remarked.

"No," Ryuusuke said. "She's right. Probably part of this does go into my own ego. I'm not sure what in the past ten years hasn't. Goddamn thing is like a black hole, has been pretty much all my adult life. But I stand by what I said; this is something fundamentally wrong with Sachiko's life, and it's not her own fault. It's not something she herself can change without understanding something bigger about the world."

"And that is?"

"That sometimes, it goes your way only if you force it to go that way. And that you can't always force it with good ideas. That sometimes, a bad idea is your best friend."

"That's ridiculous," Rei said.

"Exactly," Ryuusuke responded. "Listen. How many of you kids grew up in affluent families that always taught you to do the right thing? Come on, show of hands."  
Reluctantly, every hand went up.

Ryuusuke snorted. "I grew up with no father, and a mother who worked every bit as long and hard as a male salaryman to make up for it. Even so, we barely had enough money to get by. So what did I do as soon as my mother died? I sold our old house. Made a good bit of money at it, and with my grades I might have been able to take an entrance exam for Kyoto University and pass it. Probably could have been an engineer; I was good enough with math. I was a pretty decent student, and I had enough money from the house to pay my way through at least part of college. So do you know what I did with the money? I opened up a bar in the only place I could afford land, on the outskirts of Kyoto, where you actually have to drive to get to."

"When you put it that way," Yumi said quietly, "It sounds like an awful idea."

"And yet, I do a damn decent business. Maybe I don't make as much money as I might have if I were working for Nintendo doing signal analysis or whatever the hell it is that engineers there do, but I make enough to cover my expenses and have a halfway decent house. And the difference is, I'm doing something I enjoy, instead of something I'm good at. Because honestly, while I'm a good bartender, I'm only a mediocre businessman, so I'm not all that cut out to own my own place."

"And not so great a—" Sei began.

"Saying _nothing_ of my abilities as a chef," Ryuusuke interrupted, shooting her a look which was half death-glare and half mental high-five. The kind a guy gave another guy that said, _you got me, nice one. _"But while I'm not as good at keeping my books balanced as I was at surface integrals, I enjoy myself a lot more where I am. So logically speaking, it was a bad idea. I'd have done better for myself if I'd done what was expected of me and gone to college."

"And if Chiba had been making ramen for the rest of his life instead of singing in Beck, he'd have been doing what was expected of him, too," Yoshino chimed in, an impish grin on her face.

"I thought you only thought they were so-so."

"I lied."

"You're a little shit."

"She does her best," Rei said, her icy exterior fading a bit. "So you're telling us to…what?"

"To encourage bad ideas in Sachiko. To do so by way of a terrible idea yourself. If only because good ideas have insofar not been effective in the least. I don't mean bad like, deliberately stupid—not like finding two tablets apiece of bad acid, downing them, and then writhing in agony on the floor at her wedding bad. I mean like, direct in a way which would normally be considered both impolite and potentially stupid bearing in mind that these people are just a bit richer than god."

"Direct, huh," Sei said with a grin. "I like it."

"You would," Rei said.

"You should."

"You agree with him?" Rei was incredulous. "Honestly?"

Sei looked Rei square in the eye. "Yes. Stupid ideas have their place in our lives. Hell, coming out here was a stupid idea when you think about it. It was a huge waste of money and we didn't even get to see a live show. We just got piss drunk and wound up drinking the shit that this man," she jerked her head in Ryuusuke's direction, "made us to cure it. We could have had a nice quiet couple of days hanging out at Sachiko's house and talking."

"But you saw Sachiko there. She wasn't even sort of able to be hers…" Rei leaned back in her chair all of a sudden, dropping off in midword. She ran her hand through her hair once, as though distressed. "I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not," Yoshino smiled. "You're just sensible. That's got its place too, doesn't it." It wasn't a question.

Rei looked at Yoshino—regarded her, really—in a way she never had before: As an adult. Somebody who had, in fact, gotten where she needed to be not just a few steps ahead of Rei but several miles. Somebody who understood, maybe, a little of how the world was, not only how she wanted it to be.

_Damn._

Rei sighed and leaned back. "You guys all caught on ahead of me, huh."

Shimako said, "It was a first. I believe it felt a bit nice."

"You're a shit," Sei said.

"An honest one," Shimako replied with a small smile.

Rei looked at Yumi. It was really her, after all, who would clinch this. "Do you agree, Yumi?" she asked. "Do you think this is what we should do? Something _stupid_?"

Yumi said slowly, "I think…it would be very hard to do nothing. And I also think that everything else that makes sense has already been tried, because, really, there isn't much to try that hasn't already been tried."

"What do you mean?"

Yoshino grinned and squeezed Yumi's hand. The two had to have a psychic connection; of this both Rei and Ryuusuke were quite certain. Ryuusuke envied it.

Rei did too, but for a different reason.

"I mean," Yumi said, her voice shaking a bit, "I'm really…really sick of just sitting there and letting _Onee-sama…_" she shook her head. "No, that's not right."

"Sure it is," Yoshino said, her eyes fiery. "What Yumi was going to say, but is too much of a lady to, is that she's sick of letting Sachiko fuck her life up by being such a damn wimp. And, if we're going to help her get her life back on track, we're going to have to grow an iron pair and just tell her what's what."

There was dead silence for a moment. Nobody was quite certain that they believed they had just heard Yoshino tell everybody to grow a pair.

Nobody, that is, except Rei. If anybody was going to tell them that, it would be Yoshino, who possessed a rock-hard pair herself. She always had.

_Damn. _

"I think that deserves a toast," Sei said, also grinning. "Anybody got any booze?"

"Tell you what," Ryuusuke said. "You girls go bust up what needs to get busted up, I'll buy you all rounds and we can toast to our hearts content. Besides, it's not even noon yet."

"And yet, in California, it's almost six in the morning."

"That…doesn't mean anything," Ryuusuke pointed out.

"It _would _mean I was just getting warmed up."

Shimako snorted. "It would mean you had been passed out on a couch for at least five hours,_ Onee-sama_," she said.

Sei grimaced. Shimako had her number. She always had.

It didn't matter. She took Shimako's hand, and said, "Well, what the hell are we pissing around here for?"

"We're going…right now?" Rei said, frowning a bit.

"Why the hell not? Can you think of something better to do?"

"We don't have any time to waste anyway," Yumi said. "If we give Sachiko too much time, she'll…she won't go along with it."

"Too much time to get set in her ways," said Rei. "I know the drill."

As one, they stood. Ryuusuke grinned at them, said, "I think I can manage closing the shop up for a day or so."

Rei frowned. "I don't know if that's a great idea. The Ogasawara group manages your property, don't they?"

Ryuusuke blinked. "How'd you know?"

Rei shrugged. "They manage a lot of land around here. I didn't, but I do now."

Ryuusuke frowned. "Eh. I ran into that Suguru guy already. I'm not worried."

Yumi shook her head. "No, I think you need to stay here."

Ryuusuke blinked. "Why?"

"This isn't…something you can really help with. You've done a lot already, and we're very grateful, but…do you understand?"

Ryuusuke shook his head. "Not really."

Sei said, "Put it this way. We're going in to fight, but it's going to be a fight mostly comprised of a bunch of girly bullshit. Nothing personal, but there's not a lot of shared ground between us, you know? I think the extent of it would be, 'hey, remember that one time I made you a prairie oyster and you almost puked it up?'"

Ryuusuke hated to admit it, but she did have him there. He sighed.

"This is going to eat at me, you know."

"Can I help by telling you we'll call if we need you?" Sei asked. "Because, while we're really grateful for your help…that's about all I can do in return."

Ryuusuke had been dumped by enough women to know when he was being dumped, but…something about this felt a little better. Maybe it was the note of discontent in Sei's voice when she said it.

Because, honestly, that was the thing about getting dumped. Usually the person doing the dumping was, in the long run, right. And it sucked, but…if it felt like inevitability from the very beginning, rather than like one person being a bastard, it was easier to take.

A little, anyway.

Either way, as the girls filed out, each thanking him with a hug which was mostly sisterly, but no less sincere or firm, he couldn't help feel a little sense of regret; a little tug at his stomach, telling him, _You should be with them. _

Maybe that was the case.

Or maybe he needed to let go. Chiharu might also have told him that.

He decided that maybe that was what he needed—to have Chiharu tell him to let go. As he paid the bill, (his final act of chivalry towards those girls, at least in this matter) he dug in his pocket for his phone. As he dialed Chiharu's number, he decided that was exactly what he needed.

She gave him that, and more.


	23. 19: Voice

Author's notes

Author's notes

As always, I appreciate criticism, but I'd prefer it if you sign your reviews so I can respond to them privately, rather than calling them out in an author's note.

* * *

_So I ache._

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Voice

It was really a lot easier to talk tough than it was to come up with a plan. Sei knew that from experience (the only way one really came to understand anything) but Yoshino was still learning, which was perhaps why she became so utterly disheartened about halfway through their drive back to Tokyo, when the realization fell over the car that nobody had even the foggiest as to what they could do to help Sachiko, because none of them could really quantify what_ helping _her would entail.

In the end, all they accomplished was putting Yoshino in a state near to tears. She seemed to have taken Sachiko's case to heart, and as much as Rei tried to reassure her that they'd come up with something, the fact was that she didn't believe it herself. The prospect of _busting into Sachiko's place and telling her to grow a pair _was nice, but it inherently had several major flaws, not the least of which being the fact that _busting into Sachiko's place _was breaking and entering, and they couldn't _tell her to grow a pair _in jail. Yoshino, attempting to invoke Occam's razor, at one point suggested that they simply ask to be let in, but it was quickly pointed out that Suguru would almost certainly not allow it, and it seemed to Sei like he more or less ran the house at this point. Sachiko's parents seemed to be generically _away, _and as annoying as it was, none of them had the slightest idea where they were. Not that the parents would be much help in any event—they were the ones who had set up the marriage in the first place.

Shimako suggested trying to call Sachiko on the phone, a suggestion which had facilitated what was probably the most logical, constructive discussion, until Yumi pointed out that the household had somebody who answered the phone—almost certainly to screen their calls—and you couldn't really say difficult things on the phone anyway. In all honesty, Yumi wasn't sure if she could even say them in person. That was why they were difficult.

All they could really come up with was that Sachiko would need to take some sort of initiative, and that lead them into the same corner they were so utterly used to.

And so, Yoshino could not help but become disheartened and frustrated, along with the rest of them, to varying degrees.

All, that is, but Yumi.

Rei thought it curious—but perhaps a bit promising—that of all of them, Yumi was the only one who did not have a small drag in their step as they were let off at their individual houses.

After all, in the end, for all their scheming, this would probably be something to be resolved between Yumi and Sachiko themselves. It was hard to admit, even to herself; certainly she'd never be able to convince Yoshino of it. But that was how it was. Getting involved in somebody else's life, somebody else's business, only went so far; she'd done her fair share of it on the Rose Council, who had essentially been the school's chartered meddlers, but she felt that that experience had given her a perspective on the prospect of meddling: That it was more for the benefit of the meddler than anyone else.

_But then, how do you justify Sachiko's case to yourself? _She wondered as she hugged Yoshino goodbye, saw her in the door of her house, and then headed for her own home—she had moved out not long ago, into a dormitory on the Tokyo University campus. _Here is a girl who really needs somebody to interfere in her life, who has a hard time taking control by herself. How can you say that by stepping in and involving yourself in her business, you're _not _doing her a favor? Certainly if you keep doing that she'll never learn to walk on her own two feet, it's true, but is this really the time to be teaching her to walk? This is marriage we're talking about here. It's not her first bike ride. _

_At the same time, are we really accomplishing anything? Marriage isn't the end of the world for her; God knows Suguru isn't going to be putting any pressures on her, so to speak. At the very least, he isn't going to stop her. I don't know _everything _that's going on in their lives, but if Suguru is allowed to take lovers, Sachiko can't be expected to simply wait in their house for him to come along and grace her with his attentions. Especially if his attentions don't even swing in the general direction of Sachiko. _

_Maybe you're too rational for that, though. Certainly it's the case that most everybody that _you _know wouldn't object to at least some semblance of fairness in their relationship, but look at Sachiko's mother. Unless I'm very blind, she hasn't taken a lover in years, if ever; she still thinks the world of Sachiko's father. Does that mean she's not allowed to take one? Or just that she hasn't chosen to? _

Rei stopped at a stoplight, rolled her window down, and stuck her arm out, grabbing onto the roof of the car. Not the most ladylike move on the planet, but who was going to know? Everybody had to relax sometimes, and she enjoyed the feeling of the wind on her arm, even in the summer heat.

The light turned a few moments later, and she accelerated gently towards the speed limit, enjoying the feeling of the wind at her arm.

_Now, if Yoshino had been in the car, yes, I might be able to do something like this, and maybe Sei as well, but nobody else. There's nothing logically wrong with sticking one's arm out the window; it's simply not what's expected of me. Or rather, I'm expected not to do it. Because it's polite, right? And somebody like Sachiko might be surprised to see me like this. Just sticking my arm out the window, like a nineteen-year-old boy with his first car. It's not especially rude, and if she thought about it, she would have to understand that I'm not always polite and ladylike when nobody else is around. It's not a definition of a person, after all. It's an act around other people. _

_To what end?_

_If I knew that, I'd be able to fake it. It's exhausting being a lady. I don't even _like _skirts. _

She stopped at another light. They were not on her side today. A band was playing on the street corner, just three boys on instruments and a girl with a lovely demure voice singing a demure song about a lover whom she didn't understand.

She tapped her hand on the hood of her car in time with the drums. It was a very good song, and as the light changed again, something occurred to her.

_…What if she wouldn't understand it?_

_What if she's like that _all _the time? Even at home?_

_That's absurd. _

_Maybe she doesn't even understand that she has options. Maybe even if somebody tells her that, she doesn't take it in. Maybe actions don't speak any more loudly than words for her. Certainly she's grown as a person—she even went so far as to allow herself to ogle Yumi when she thought nobody was looking—but maybe that's something that she can't quite get. Maybe she thinks it's something she sees on TV, but only really exists in the collective imagination, like True Love Which Conquers Even Death or a pill that can make a man larger. _

_After all, if she grew up with none, how could she learn them? You don't learn options. They're given to you and you learn how to choose between them, but if they're never given to you, how can you familiarize yourself with such a concept without help? Or even _with _help? _

_So then…what? What does that do for you? Do you just step in and make her decision for her? That's not right. Even if I could do it, I wouldn't. _

_Maybe …_

_Maybe she needs somebody to present her with a decision like that. To sit her down and tell her, _okay, this is your choice now. Make it, _with a completely neutral stance. Not acting as anybody's agent but their own. _

_Kind of like asking somebody out._

_You're not doing it for anybody but you. You've made your choice, and so it's up to whoever you're asking out to make theirs, and that's that. In the end, they have to make a selfish choice, and that's how you know they're being honest. _

The Tokyo University campus was crowded, but mystically, it was never hard for Rei to get through in a car. The students obeyed traffic laws, which Rei thought was absolutely absurd, but nonetheless thanked God for; if they simply meandered about the streets as they pleased she'd never get anywhere. She pulled into a parking spot near her dormitory (which was co-ed; something it had taken her a hell of a long time to get used to) and after a moment, rolled the window up and got out of the car. Her arm felt a bit funky from hanging it out of the window for so long, and it was certainly warmer than the rest of her body from being in the sun. She rubbed it a bit, then locked her car, and began walking towards her room.

She was halfway there when she simply stopped.

_And that is why Yumi is not nervous. Or at least, not nervous about the same thing that we are. She understood that already._ _She understands what it takes to force a selfish decision. _

_And we can do precisely nothing._

_For now, anyway. _

For now.

Rei needed a nap, badly.

* * *

Sachiko had no trouble readjusting to having a role—none which could be perceived without paying attention, anyway. Nearly as soon as she exited the car and crossed the twenty feet towards the large double-doors of her house, her morose exterior seemed to melt off like so much sweat, dripping down her neck, down her side, snaking down her thighs, and finally being left on the ground behind her. She walked slowly and purposefully up the stairs, occasionally adjusting the crease of her jeans in place of a skirt that she did not wear. She bowed and thanked politely the man who opened the door for her, removed her shoes at the entryway, and murmured _I'm home _to a house which was not empty but may as well have been.

_It echoes._

_It fucking echoes. _

_A house should not echo. _

_Many people would give their firstborn child and every one after it to be able to afford a house that could echo. _It was a line read off a script at this point. _Don't question your wealth, you're lucky to have it. That's what makes a person lucky is money; never mind the ability to have a normal life or marry anybody they please or hell even just ogle anybody they please, or rather anybody who pleases them, it's MONEY that makes a person lucky, MONEY and nothing else. Just money, if you have that it's all you need then you can have all the male suitors you want so long as you pick one who won't love you. No, you're _lucky _to have that. Because there's money mixed in with it. _

_They can have it. They can goddamn _have _it. I don't goddamn want it. Who the hell even asked me? Let's just open up the damn doors and let every bum who wants a piece take a room. Let's wait on them. I'll find another place to live. I'll take one of their names. One of them can be Sachiko Ogasawara, and I'll be –_

_Stop it. _

Sachiko found that her hands were clenched together powerfully, her nails digging painfully into her palms. Her mouth was twitching slightly. She felt something burning in her chest, and wondered for a moment if she would have a heart attack, but the feeling passed as she steadied herself.

Suguru followed her up the stairs and passed her without a word. None of the doormen moved to help her or even asked her if anything was wrong. No blood, no report, that was how it was in this house, just like the damn Self Defense Forces.

It had never bothered her before. She had never really thought of one of the doormen lending a steadying hand, much less Suguru.

And then she thought of Yumi.

And of Sei.

And of goddamn _all of them. _All of them who had guided her, who had given her a steadying hand or a steadying hug or a steadying talk or a steadying glass of beer or a steadying kiss. People who had lifted the weight of being Sachiko off of Sachiko's shoulders, who had all carried it with her.

_That sounds pathetic. _

_Isn't that what everybody needs, though? Doesn't Rei help Yoshino with that every damn day? Haven't I helped Yumi with being Yumi in the past? Why is it so wrong, wanting somebody to help you be you without collapsing? Parents help you be you. Friends help you to be you. Apparently doormen, even ones whom you've known for years don't, and apparently fiancés don't. Apparently people who talk to you at parties and try to put their hands up your skirt don't. _

_Fuck all of you._

_Fuck every last one of you. You may all burn in hell._

She was clenching her hand again.

This time there _was _blood, and a stinging pain. Her fingernails were not entirely clean, and she did not know why, but she knew she would have to have somebody disinfect them.

There was blood, but still no report. The doormen closed the door and left with a respectful bow.

_I'll do it myself._

She started walking into the house, and made it about twenty yards before she realized she had no idea where her family kept disinfectant.

It took her twenty minutes to calm herself down to the point where she thought she'd be able to ask for help in a tone of voice which was _not _an angry snarl. It took her ten more to get her voice soft enough to address somebody else.

_(Calm down, Sachiko.)__  
(There is no reason to be angry. Even if there is, there is no utility to it. You'll get places with your wealth and your face and your gentle persona, not your anger, remember that. Nobody wants to hear what you think of the Fukuda's economic gaffes; they want to hear what you think of the drapes. Just think of the drapes and the rugs and the night's dinner.)__  
(God sometimes I just want to put my fist through a)  
(Calm. Down.)_

It took her less than a minute to convince the man she'd asked for help to let her disinfect her own wounds. She said she'd gotten them falling in Kyoto, and stuck to her story, even though it was completely absurd—if nothing else, the small cuts in her palm _looked _like nail marks, and her fingernails had blood under them. It was a testament to how little anybody in this house gave a good goddamn that the man, who had worked for the Ogasawaras for five years, gave in so quickly and left Sachiko to her own devices.

Sachiko dumped hydrogen peroxide over her hand over the sink, and it hurt. A lot. She was not used to physical pain, and tears welled up in her eyes as she bit her lip. Small white fuzz bubbled up on the four identical cuts on her palm, and she rinsed it off and did it again. It hurt a bit less this time. She repeated the process about four times, and by the last she was used to the pain. She put the brown, unassuming bottle of peroxide away and bandaged her hand with bandages the man had given her, and then stood, clearing her mind. This had been an unpleasant experience and she did not want to repeat it. She would keep her hands very flat against her side whenever she could.

And even so, anger burned inside of her.

Her mother called her later that day and chastised her for "running off with her friends so irresponsibly when she has a life to consider." Sachiko sat quietly and nodded at all the right times, apologizing at all the right times, even bowing at the wall once. It was another thing she'd been drilled in, in case anybody was watching—though her friends often did it inadvertently as well, it would not do for somebody watching to think she was _abnormal._

_God, I've got all those _in cases_ down._

Afterward, her mother conveniently forgave her and told her she'd be around in an hour to try on dresses with her.

It was strange, Sachiko thought as she hung up the phone and set herself gently down on her bed. Her mother surely cared about her; she had been very supportive and understanding when her grandmother had died. She had even let Yumi see her in her grief, and comfort her. She had not asked once for Sachiko to _please get up, clean up, and come support the family. _

In truth, she knew she was cared about by her mother, but she could not help resenting it._  
(You are resenting everything that you are handed, you undeserving bitch.)  
Then take it away. Take it._  
Why, though? Why resent it?_  
Because nobody asked you.__  
Nobody ever god damn asks you.__  
Who would? _

Who would? Nobody really owned their own life, after all, so who would?

_Then who _does _own my life? And then, what do I own? _

_You own power and wealth._

_But what use is it without my life? And who made that trade?_

Sachiko decided to stop thinking about it and sleep.

It didn't go very well. She could not fall asleep, and she very nearly put four more neat cuts into her other palm.

A small muscle in her jaw began twitching and did not stop.

* * *

Sachiko's mother arrived an hour later, on the dot, flanked by four men carrying bundles of white, flowing dresses. Sachiko had roused herself and was downstairs, trying to keep her bandaged hand behind her back as best she could. She had also put on a skirt, reasoning that even if she was wearing jeans she wouldn't be allowed to keep that hand in her pocket. She would have to keep them at her sides, or behind her back.

"I've picked out quite a few for you to try on," her mother said, brushing past her, her pace very nearly fast, "so we'll need to begin right away. I want to have one chosen before your father gets home so you can show him."

_She _had picked out.

Sachiko had not even gotten to look.

_Of course not._

Sachiko had always looked forward to picking out her wedding dress. She had thought it would be wonderfully romantic, exciting, to go out with all of her friends and spend the day choosing one. To not only try them on herself, but to _gently prompt _Sei or perhaps Yumi to try one on, to laugh at how embarrassed it made both of them, and finally to watch them give. She wondered if she'd have been able to get Youko into one, or maybe Rei. Yoshino would certainly enjoy seeing that.

_(I could have seen Yumi in a wedding dress.)  
(You bitch. You fucking bitch.)_

Her nails dug into her bandaged palm again, extremely painfully.

She very nearly enjoyed it. It was the only thing that kept her jaw from twitching.

She tried on almost fifteen dresses over the course of the next four hours, each one done up in its entirety by a team of several women, all with blank faces. Sachiko's mother gave her opinion on each one, and, for politeness' sake, listened to Sachiko's opinion and ignored it.

Sachiko felt that none of them were quite right. To her it sounded silly—after all, a dress was a dress, wasn't it? And many of them—including the one that her mother summarily chose after the last one was loosened and dropped to the floor, leaving Sachiko standing in her underwear for the first time in a very long time—looked very flattering on her. She would look beautiful in them.

But that wasn't what she wanted.

It was silly; that was what she would be told, anyway, but it wasn't _her _wedding dress. And if it wasn't _hers, _what was the damn point? Wasn't she the one getting married?

_To a man who doesn't love you._

_To a man who _can't _love you._

_Be reasonable, Sachiko, which part of this _is _your wedding? You didn't want this. You didn't choose any of this. What's the point in complaining about your _dress_, of all things?_

It took her not long at all to recognize the voice of her mother, speaking to her once again inside of her head.

And yet, she could not simply accept that.

Not like before.

Not really.

But what could she do? She may have forgotten it for a brief, happy period, but her life was not her own. It belonged to the Ogasawara Group. The Ogasawara Group employed a great many people, made her family wealthy and powerful, and provided a great many necessary services to a great many people who needed them. And for some reason, all of it seemed right now to hinge on _her _marrying Suguru so that their entire system would continue. Their bizarre, unreasonable system of lineage-based leadership. Her father ran the Ogasawara Group now, as his father and grandfather before him had.

_Shouldn't a company be run on the basis of ability, not of lineage? _

_Doesn't that make sense?_

Maybe she thought so, but obviously the leadership of the Ogasawara Group disagreed. And why wouldn't they? Admitting what she admitted would mean that they might lose their hold on the company. Let the board and the stockholders elect the next president. Then it would be the Ogasawara Group only in name, and, horror of all horrors, some later generation of Ogasawaras might actually have to find legitimate jobs. An Ogasawara _woman _might actually hold a job. An Ogasawara man might turn out not to be the president of a company, but a writer or a teacher. Their vaunted wealth and power would fade, probably not in the lifetimes of the men and women who feared it, but in their children's lifetimes.

And that would be horrible, wouldn't it?

_Aren't _I _their child?_

_I don't think it's horrible._

_I could give this house and this wealth up in an instant._

_You have many cousins who would not mind taking it up in your stead. Isn't Suguru one of them? Isn't this only to secure his place among all of the other male cousins who might want to control the company? Isn't this just preventing a power struggle, then? _

But if Suguru was really cut out to lead the company…and he was, there was no question of that in her mind—whatever else he was, he was smart and he was shrewd, and he was kind enough that he would not run it cruelly—shouldn't emerge in the top of a power struggle anyway?

_But it would be destructive._

_And mother would never allow it._

_What could she do?_

_She could cut me off. She could kick me out. She could disown me. She might. If she didn't, father would. I would be thrown into the world with nothing at all, and then within years I would become one of those people who would trade their firstborn for what I used to have. That, too is an awful fate._

Then, what?

She didn't know.

She just didn't know.

She felt tired all at once. She very nearly collapsed, but managed to sit on the floor instead. Her mother looked up immediately and snapped, "Sachiko! What are you doing? Are you an animal?"

"I'm tired, mother," she murmured. "I didn't feel that I could stand any longer."

"Then be tired on a chair," her mother said. Her mother's voice masked irritation, but Sachiko heard an undertone of concern that made her feel a bit better. One of the women who had helped Sachiko try on dresses brought a chair over and tried to help Sachiko into it. Sachiko was expected to take her help, but did not, standing of her own power instead, and verily flopping into the chair, still dressed in only her underwear. It was the very picture of laziness, and she was surprised her mother allowed it.

Her mother went back to what she had been doing, helping one of the women hang the dress up properly, cover it in plastic, and store it. The other women gathered up the "rejected" (not that Sachiko had rejected them) dresses and put them in boxes. Sachiko doubted her mother was going to attempt to return them. What was the point?

After they had finished, the women left the room with the boxes and Sachiko's mother was alone with her, still fiddling with the dress, her face all at once a bit wistful. It took Sachiko only a few moments to realize why her mother had made the selection she did, and she felt a tug at her heart.

_Mother has not had it any easier than I have, has she?_

There was silence between them for a moment, and then her mother said, "Sachiko, put some clothes on. You look ridiculous," very quietly.

_That is no reason for her to push it on me, damn it._

"Mother," Sachiko murmured, her voice very tired.

"Yes?"

"I…"

_What are you doing?  
__I want to say it.__  
You can't say it, you stupid girl. You can not say it.__  
I have to say it.  
__You can't. Shut the hell up, right now. Put some clothes on.  
__I'm going to say it.  
__You are being ridiculous.__  
Then I'll be ridiculous. I need to say it. I can't not even have my voice heard.  
Why the hell not? That's what your life _is.  
_I can't do it. I just … can't.  
__Like hell you can't. Shut up._

"You what?" Sachiko's mother turned to face her._  
DO NOT_  
"I don't want to go through with this."

Sachiko's throat felt so tight that she wondered how she was able to breathe._  
YOU FUCKING IDIOT TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW._  
Her mother sighed. "It's a big step."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Watch your tone," her mother snapped automatically.

"Mother. Please. You know what I mean."

Her mother looked around a bit, and then walked over to Sachiko and put a hand on her bare shoulder. The touch felt good—Sachiko had forgotten that her mother could be a very gentle woman. After a moment, she put a hand on Sachiko's other shoulder, and squeezed a bit.

_Was that a hug?_

She much preferred Yumi's.

"I know," her mother whispered. "But this is the burden that you, as a woman, must bear."

It was Sei's voice that rang in her head this time: _That's a crock of shit, and you know it._

"To marry a man who doesn't love me?"

"Suguru loves you."

"Not as I need him to."

"He will come to. He is a man, after all, and has his needs."

_So then, does father love his mistresses as well? _

She held that biting comment back.

"This isn't right, mother. You know it."

"Watch your tone," the older woman snapped again. "You don't know what I know. Not by quite a bit."

_I wish you'd tell me._

_I wish somebody would GOD DAMN tell me what it is that I don't know that justifies this. That justifies taking my mother fucking _LIFE _away from me. _

Sachiko nearly cried out in pain as her cut palm reopened under the pressure of her nails.

"There are just things we have to do, is that correct?"

"Yes, something like that," her mother said vaguely.

Sachiko thought _that _to be a crock of shit. Certainly everybody had things they had to do.

This was not one of them, though.

She didn't give a flying fuck about company leadership. She just didn't. The Ogasawaras were richer than God. If they sold their massive house and lived like every other person in Tokyo, their family would not have to even _work _for something like twenty generations before the money began to run a bit low, barring some massive-scaled economic collapse. By playing in the stock market, or in the world market, they could double that number. Money on the scale that they had money on practically increased itself. Sachiko could, on the spot, think of ten ways to grow their money each year by a sum large enough to support an upper-middle class family living in Tokyo. Several, even.

And then a thought that never occurred to Sachiko before occurred to her:

She was _smart._

This…very nearly floored her.

_I'm…smart._

Certainly she had never thought she was stupid; she had always made excellent grades in school. But _this?_

_Hell, I could make it on my own. Couldn't I?_

_Could I?_

"I think we're done, mother," she said quietly. "It's clear to me that I have no say in this matter, nor have I ever."

It came out harshly. Angrily. Her hand let up a bit on her palm.

"Sachiko, watch your—"

"Tone, I know. I'm watching my tone, and my face, and every other piece of me, as always. As you taught me. I'm just pointing out that I have no say in whom I will marry, so I should probably not have a say in anything relating to it."

"You are being childish. When you say it like that, it sounds awful."

"It does, doesn't it?"

Sachiko stood, pulling loose of her mother.

She felt something swelling inside her that she had never felt before.

_Resolve. _

She pulled pants on quickly, savoring the feeling of the denim gliding over her skin. It felt different than it had before. It felt _good_.

She pulled a shirt on.

She walked out.

Her mother said not a word of protest. Perhaps she believed Sachiko defeated, or herself defeated instead.

Sachiko went to the bathroom and once again cleaned her cuts. The pain was less intense this time. Maybe because her mind was preoccupied. She felt focused. She saw ideas form in front of her eyes, and then vanish. She had never felt like this before; school had been mostly rote memorization, and so it had been easy to simply cram ideas into her head and spit them back out on tests.

_Have you ever really been challenged before?_

She liked it.

God help her, she liked it.

* * *

Her cell phone rang twenty minutes later. It was Yumi. Apparently, Yumi had_ something she needed to talk to her about._

Sachiko smiled and asked her to come over. When Yumi protested, Sachiko said, "This is my house, Yumi. Nobody is going to stop you."

_That is not entirely true. _

_It's close, though._

Mostly she just needed it resolved quickly. Before she lost this _resolve _that even filled up the hole of nerves in her stomach when Yumi's tight, low voice told her that she had to talk about _something_.

Resolve was like a muscle, and part of her knew it. This was an unexercised muscle in her body, and she would need to finish before it gave out. Because it would give out.

It was just a matter of when, and if she could finish first or not.


	24. 20: Fake

Author's notes:

This is the final chapter of Fake. It's going to be very long.

Before you say anything, while it is true that some Japanese universities are difficult, in general, the Japanese university experience is fairly easy and laid-back, rather than difficult and competitive like most western universities. (Japanese high schools tend to give students their fill of difficult and competitive.)

Bonus points if you can catch where I swiped my definition of a good author from.

I have taken liberties with the entire Japanese language in this chapter. Small ones, but if they offend you, please feel free to tell me about it.

Japanese families are traditionally expected to put their children through university.

I know it's been a long road and even a long time since an update, but I finally got it done.

--

_This place has begun to cover me; I recall the light but the dark smothers me / I prefer the feelings I know right now / I don't worry about feeling very proud._

_Because here I know how it feels to be misunderstood / to reach for the sky, I thought you never would_

_Cause there's not much more that I can fake. _

--

Chapter 20

Fake

1.

Madness. There were other words for it, but Sei knew the best one. It was madness. One hundred and ten percent homegrown grade-A madness with a side of bullshit. This was stupid. Worse, it was unbelievable. If somebody made it into a movie you couldn't _pay _her to see it.

_Who even _does _that? Is that some kind of power trip? We were coming back in _two goddamn days_ and he couldn't wait that long, so he gets in his imposing black car with a pair of men in imposing black suits and comes and finds us in Kyoto, fuckall if I know how. Did he stick Sachiko with a homing device? Was that it? It plays like a really, really, really bad spy movie and it stinks just as bad. _

_And then, what? He just says, "Okay, vacation's over. See you later," and for some utterly unperceivable reason, instead of kicking him in the nuts and telling him to go fuck himself, she just _gets into the car and leaves. _I was getting ready to stick Yumi with a tranquilizer dart to calm her down. How the fuck could she even explain that? _Yeah, sorry about that, babe. I was going to have a great time with you at a live house, get piss-drunk, and then probably do things to slash with you that I couldn't tell the nuns about, but I decided at the last minute that I was going to get into a car with my fiancé, whom I hate, instead.

It was just stupid. Madness.

And it pissed Sei right the fuck off.

She knew she shouldn't fixate on it. It was none of her damn business if Sachiko said it was none of her damn business, and by getting wordlessly into a car with that son of a bitch Suguru, she had essentially done just that. If she wanted to fuck up her own life, she could fuck up her own life.

_(Not many people would call marrying a handsome man and living in wealth and comfort for the rest of your life _fucking up_.)_

But she could not help it. Remember? This was one of the cases they should get involved. They were going to bust shit up, tell her what's what. Kick ass.

And none of it happened.

In the end they were all just motherfucking bluster and smoke.

Sei's fist hit the wall before she realized what she was doing, and it hurt. "Son of a _bitch_," she hissed, more in anger than in pain.

_Wouldn't you have wanted somebody to interfere with _(her)?_ To have just stood _(her)_ there and told _(her)_, _why in the fucking hell would you want to become a nun? You have a damn good life ahead of you, and people who love you. Why throw that all away just so you can die a virgin?

Sei supposed she would probably be told that she _just didn't understand._ That there was something more to becoming a nun, something that made it perfectly reasonable for teenage girls whose hormones ought to have been beating down their hem-hem doors to dream not of being swept away by some good looking man (or woman) but of taking a vow of chastity for the sake of an omniscient deity who probably didn't give a fuck one way or another who popped whose cherry.

_Something that makes girls who are in love give it up. Give up love for God's sake. Because God commands it. Because He wants all your love. Because He is all-powerful, infinitely wise and merciful, and He is also incredibly insecure. _

_It makes sense in some way, then, that man was made in God's image._

And that, really, was the problem Sei had always had with God, but more than that, with His self-appointed church: Even though it preached love—and it really, really did; one could not attend a Catholic institution without reading the bible extensively—it demanded that one give it up. _And for what? Because loving God is all you should need? You don't need to love another man—or another woman? Then why bother getting married? Why not just fuck once in your life to procreate—or shit, just skip that step entirely and find a clean turkey baster—and then raise the kid to love Him as much as you love Him? Why even love your child if God's love is all you need? _

_Why abandon people who love you? Just because God does?_

_And isn't that the core of it all? _

_Isn't it really just that _(she) _made a bad decision, thinking not of herself, nor of others, but of the big man in the sky who supposedly asks us to love only him? _

_Isn't that why this pisses you off so bad? Sachiko is doing the same thing. She's making a decision not for herself, nor for those whom she cares about, but for some people who she shouldn't care about, since they certainly don't give a flying fuck about her._

_Why do I blame_ her _for that? _

_Why do I blame _myself _for that? _

_How can I blame anybody?_

Sei felt like crying.

She really did blame herself.

It wasn't her business. It wasn't her problem. It wasn't her life.

But she couldn't help but feel like maybe it was her business. Maybe it was her problem. Maybe because she loved Sachiko—and she did, in the same way she loved

_(she stares at me and I stare back, stark naked)_

_(what the fuck was that)_

Rei—or maybe just because she was just on a vendetta. Maybe she felt like she needed some form of forgiveness for letting _(her) _make a mistake.

Maybe she was just trying to prove to herself that_ (she) _had, in fact, made a mistake. Maybe then she could justify her anger. Because on some level, she knew she couldn't. _(She) _had done exactly what she wanted to do with her life, and that was what everybody had to do, inevitably. Even if it was stupid or silly or foolish or just motherfucking painful.

_But the cases…they're different._

_Sachiko isn't doing what she wants with her life._

_Is that the truth, though? Or is that just what you want to be true?_

_Maybe Sachiko has the same thing that _(she)_ has. Some strange sense of duty that you could never, ever understand. Maybe there's just something that_ you're _missing. _

_Maybe the world isn't wrong._

_Maybe _you're

Something vibrated near her crotch. She jerked, torn from her over-reflective reverie, and dug into her pocket reflexively, grasping onto her phone, which vibrated in her hand as she pulled it out. Without looking at who was calling, she flipped it open with a "Hello?" which was more than a little annoyed.

"_Onee-sama?_" The voice on the other end was gentle but timid, a nice girl unused to getting snapped at. Her _petite soeur _was just such a nice girl.

"Oh. I'm sorry." She shook her head. _Idiot. Calm the fuck down or you'll wind up pissing more people off. _"What is it, Shimako?"

"I…was wondering if you could let me into your room," Shimako said hesitantly.

"You…what?" Sei blinked. _I dropped her off less than two hours ago. How would she even get down here? Topping that, why would she bother? _"Now?"

"Yes," Shimako said. "I tried knocking on your door and ringing your doorbell, but you didn't answer."

_She did?_

She stood quickly, hurrying over to the door of her small house. She unlocked and opened the door, and found Shimako standing there, her phone still held to her ear in one hand, a small plastic grocery bag in the other.

They stared at one another for a moment, and then hung up. Sei had to work hard not to say _goodbye _as she did.

"What is it, Shimako?" Sei asked, and then immediately wished she'd phrased it better.

Shimako did not falter this time. "I thought we might have dinner together tonight, _Onee-sama_."

"I…kind of don't have much to cook for two." Sei had more or less just been planning to have ramen.

Shimako held up her bag and smiled gently. "I figured as much. May I come in?"

Sei nodded a bit dumbly.

Shimako entered. "Are you hungry now, or should I wait?" she asked, as if utterly dismissing the fact that she had essentially invited herself over to Sei's house completely on a whim, something which was as un-Shimako-like as just about anything Sei could think of.

"I'm…we can eat now."

"Good," Shimako said. "I've brought fresh tofu, and I wouldn't want it getting soggy."

_She really _did _plan this out. _

_What's her game?_

Sei wished she didn't have to wonder that.

She wondered if she would ever stop.

From her bag, she produced a small plastic container full of some sort of liquid, and what was essentially a hunk of tofu. It looked unbearably delicious; fresh rather than preprocessed. Something you got from a local store rather than a supermarket or a convenience store. "Do you have a frying pan?" Shimako asked. "Or, better yet, a wok?"

"I have a wok," Sei said, and immediately wished she hadn't—she remembered just as she did that she'd left it to soak while she'd been gone. It was probably unbelievably rank at this point.

_Sei, what in the hell is wrong with you?_

What _was _wrong with her? She was not a messy person by nature—or if she was, she was not a messy person by practice. Lillian had beaten it out of her.

_How have you been living these past few months?_

It had not been good.

She could barely even remember it.

"_Onee-sama_…how long has this been soaking?" came Shimako's voice from her kitchen. She sounded almost nervous, and Sei could not blame her. She, too, would be nervous about tentacles maybe coming from that water, grabbing her by the wrist, and dragging her down an unnecessarily wide drainage pipe.

_Son of a bitch. _

"You maybe … don't want to touch that."

"I need to use it, though. I'll be okay."

_I'm not so sure about that._

_What the hell is wrong with you, Sei? You're not a messy person. How did you let that happen?_

_I had just kind of … kept putting it off. I hadn't really felt like cleaning. _

_Before Sachiko invited you over, when was the last time you actually got out? _

She could not for the life of her remember. She had to have gotten out at some point. She was typically a marginally sociable person. Certainly she was one of those that needed social contact to function properly. Maybe that was why the time after _(she) _had left, but before she had met the Rose Council, had been so hellish for her. So difficult. Certainly it wasn't painful anymore, but it wasn't something she enjoyed thinking back on.

_Then why had you been wallowing in it for so long?_

Was that what she'd been doing?

_Yeah, it is. _

_That's what you did instead of washing the damn dishes. You let them wallow, and then you laid in your bed and wallowed yourself. _

How long had she spent simply laying there, watching television? Feeling like she was wasting away, occasionally drifting into sleep. Never sleeping a full night.

She could not remember.

She heard dishes clattering in the kitchen, and cursed again, stood up, and went quickly into the kitchen, to find Shimako drawing new water for her dishes to soak in. The smell was not pleasant but it was getting better.

"I'll do it, Shimako."

"Thank you, but I'll take care of it, _Onee-sama_."

"No, I've got it. It's my mess. You don't need to get some sort of damn infection off of my grime."

"I'll be just fine."

"Seriously. Thank you for coming over with food, but I can take care of this."

"You're quite welcome, but please, allow me to handle it."

"Shimako. Seriously. Please."

Shimako gave her a look as hard as steel. "_Onee-sama_, please go sit down."

It was about as close to snapping as Shimako had ever gotten, and Sei was actually taken aback. "What's…" she stopped. _Don't start anything. That's the last thing you need, you stupid shit. _"You know what, forget it. Fine." _That was not how to not start anything. What the hell is the matter with you? _"I'll wait in the other room."

"Thank you," Shimako said, and Sei retreated, finding herself physically shaking from the confrontation.

When she was back in the living room, she collapsed into a heap on the floor.

_God. Damn it._

What was wrong with her?

She thought about it as Shimako cleaned, and then cooked, and then cleaned again. All in all, in the better part of the hour Shimako was in the kitchen, she came up with precisely nothing. More often than not she just wound up circling around the same point: _I just haven't felt like doing much lately._

Shimako eventually came back carrying two large, steaming bowls which smelled absolutely heavenly. She had no idea what was in them, and didn't much care at this point. As she smelled them, her stomach growled.

_It's been a while since I ate._

She hadn't been planning on eating ramen.

She hadn't been planning on eating at all.

What was wrong with her? It wasn't as though she was planning to starve herself. She had simply made no plans to eat. She didn't even have any ramen.

Shimako set the bowl down in front of her, and then sat down across the table, set her own bowl down. Each bowl, Sei found, already had a wide spoon in it. They clapped their hands together, said a brief thanks for the food, and then began to eat.

The flavor of the soup was absolutely astounding, and the tofu inside was delicious, neither too rubbery nor too mushy. Before Sei was quite aware of what she was doing, her bowl was empty.

Her stomach growled again.

Shimako said, "There's more in the kitchen," shortly.

_Is she pissed at me?_

_She ought to be._

Sei went through the cycle of _refill-demolish _twice more before she felt more or less sated. Shimako, during this time went through only one bowl. When she finished, they set their spoons down, said a quick thanks for the food (again), and then lapsed into silence. Shimako began to gather up the dishes after a minute, and Sei made to stop her, but as she did, she got another tough look from Shimako.

She slumped back.

_What's wrong with _her?

Another ten minutes and Shimako reemerged from the kitchen holding two small prepackaged ice cream cups.

"Dessert," she said, her voice a bit gentler, less edgy.

Sei nodded, sat up straight, and they went through the same routine they had before—Sei demolished hers, Shimako savored hers.

When they had finished, as before, they lapsed into silence.

Sei took the opportunity to gather up the cups and throw them away. She found Shimako had taken out her trash for her while she'd been cleaning.

_God damn it, you're not my mother. What are you doing?_

It irritated her a little. Was Shimako implying that Sei could not take care of herself? Was she implying that she was simply too messy? What _was _she saying?

_Maybe she was just saying that the trash was getting full. Maybe she's saying that it's burnable trash day. You ever think of that? _

_What is wrong with you?_

She went back into the small living room and sat down next to Shimako.

"You have been worrying again, _Onee-sama_."

Sei felt like she should wear a tin hat.

"I have not."

"You are a poor liar."

"I'm really not lying. I haven't really been thinking about anything at all." Not a lie, given the proper timeframe. "It's just been a rough few months is all, with classes and all."

"You are a very smart person, _Onee-sama_. I have a hard time believing classes would trouble you that much."

"What much? I'm _fine_."

"You are not." It had been over a year since Sei had heard that sort of outright defiance from Shimako. It was both refreshing and a bit troubling. Mostly troubling. "Please. Stop lying."

Sei leaned back and sighed. "I'm not sure what you're expecting out of me, Shimako. If you think that you'll push hard enough and eventually I'll just break down and start sobbing about how miserable I am, you're going to be disappointed, because I'm not. I really am all right. If I was break-down-sobbing miserable, I would get help. I'm not Sachiko."

"Were you going to eat tonight? Honestly?"

"Probably," Sei lied.

"That's not _all right_."

"It's close enough for government work. I'm serious, drop it." _What is she doing? This is not how _we _are. Why doesn't she realize that? _"It's not befitting of either of us."

"I don't care about that," Shimako said, her voice almost pleading. "I'm sick of this."

"Sick of what?" Sei asked before she thought about it. If she had thought about it, she might have apologized and asked Shimako politely to leave. She wasn't ready for this. Not yet.

_When, then?_

_Not yet._

_Then, when? Are you waiting for something? Elapsed time? Some level of maturity to be reached? What the hell does she need to do, say a fucking password? _

"I'm sick of not talking about anything at all. I'm sick of keeping you at arm's length when you're hurting. I'm sick of being _kept _at arm's length when I'm hurting."

"Shimako_, _I—" How did she explain this? That that was how she did best? That not everybody needed open-heart surgery every time they had a bad day. That she just … was not the same as her friends, who would come over, strap on latex gloves, and start opening up every single fucking part of their friends' lives whenever they bumped their proverbial ankle. That she wasn't…fucking…_nosy. _She loved her friends, but some days, they were just so. Fucking. Nosy.

_Didn't you just spend the last three days being nosy?_

_That's different. _

_Why?_

_Sachiko actually needed help._

_And you don't? Ha. Ha ha. And boy, what is the deal with airline food?_

And then, Shimako said something that surprised her, but shouldn't have. "You don't need somebody to give you an invasive exam every time you feel a little sniffle coming on? I know that,_ Onee-sama_." Sei realized she should be used to this from Shimako. To being surprised. "You and I are alike, rememeber? But this is different. This isn't just being yelled at and sulking for a while. This isn't getting a poor grade on an exam. This isn't even losing a friend."

"Then what _is _it?"

"I don't know!" Shimako's voice actually trembled in frustration, and it was only then that Sei realized just how hard this was on her. "I don't know, all I know is that you're not taking care of yourself, and when you get to _that _point, that's when you need help. And I wish you would tell me what it is. I wish you would even just let me help you, but you won't. Because we _don't interfere with each other's lives. _That's an awful way to be."

"It's the only way we can be."

"That's not true, and you know it. You can be caring without being nosy."

And Sei knew it was true, and she knew it was important. It was the reason she had not pursued Yumi in earnest. It was the reason she had not pursued any of the Rose Council in earnest. Flirting was fine, and hell, speaking candidly, if any of them had come around for a casual tussle in bed, Sei probably would have been all right with that. But she couldn't _really _pursue a relationship with any of them, because they were all just so. Fucking. Nosy. It was fine for friendship, and in truth, none of it was related to the malicious gossip that was the property of housewives across the country, but Sei needed privacy and she knew it. And even Sei occasionally looked thirty years down the road, when the beast of time inevitably sucked the passion of love away and left it with a gentle caring, at best, and she saw anger and bitterness growing quietly, but maliciously, inside of her.

But not Shimako.

Shimako knew when to keep her hands off of Sei, and when not to.

_(Well, not quite her hands.)_

Sei leaned back and sighed. "I've just been lonely lately, okay?"

"Why didn't you call any of us?"

"Not that kind of lonely."

"Oh. You have been thinking about" _(her)_ "again."

_Here it comes._

Shimako touched Sei's hand gently and said…nothing.

And they stayed like that for quite a while. They simply sat next to one another, Sei's hand in Shimako's, and said nothing. And somehow, during that time, at some point, Sei simply felt the loneliness drain out of her.

That, after all, was what Shimako understood so well. She didn't need to _talk_. She didn't need anyone to _listen_. She didn't want sympathy or reassuring pats on the back or a shoulder to cry on.

She just needed somebody to understand, and to hold her hand while she worked through it on her own. And occasionally, somebody to kick her in the ass, to not accept her excuses.

And that was what Shimako was best at. She was awful at giving advice, and her reassuring pat was probably the most awkward thing Sei had ever witnessed on God's green earth.

But she was good at being a hand to hold.

Sei looked at Shimako closely. Studied her calm face, noted the slim lines of her neck as they curved into the conservative blouse she wore which ended much too high for Sei's liking.

And Sei looked again thirty years into the future. She didn't see much—she never did. But instead of seeing herself nursing bitterness and a need to be alone, she saw something else.

She saw herself saying to Shimako, _I love you_. And meaning it.

_Fuck it._

She moved towards Shimako, closing her eyes slowly. Shimako pulled away.

_Wait, what?_

"No, _Onee-sama_."

"No?" Not a challenge, but a question.

"No more of that." What did _that _mean? "I made a mistake before, and I don't want you to make the same mistake."

"What mistake is that?"

"The mistake of not following through, of not doing something properly."

Truly, Shimako was a wise girl. And possessed of a willpower that nobody would expect by simply looking at her calm, oft-fragile demeanor.

Sei grinned a bit. "Properly, huh."

"Properly."

Sei sighed, and the butterflies started flapping around in her stomach, trying desperately to cause a typhoon on the other side of the world. Even now, it was hard. When was the last time she had actually asked somebody out on a date?

When was the last time she had _had _a date?

"Shimako, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow night?"

"In what capacity?"

_No stone unturned, huh. _

"In the capacity of a date."

"Now, in a full sentence, if you would."

Sei nearly sputtered. "Wh…you little…"

"If you please." That coy grin. That one that said, _got you. _

Sei loved that grin. Loved it dearly.

"Shimako, would you go out on a date with me tomorrow night, for coffee?" What an awful sentence. It was like she was making Japanese her second language.

"I most certainly would," Shimako said with a grin, and then she stood up abruptly, a girl no surer of where she was going than the rest of us.

Sei blinked at her.

"If we're going out on a date tomorrow, we can't loiter around together today."

"Why not?"

"Then when would we say our first date began? When would our anniversary be? Today or tomorrow? It's important, you know."

Sei wanted to sputter again.

What a difficult girl.

What a difficult, stubborn, lovely, intelligent, coy, clever girl.

Shimako left.

Sei cleaned her apartment after that. She spent the rest of the evening reading and listening to music at the table. She got a good night's sleep, although it took her about an hour to finally settle down.

She was _excited. _

For the first time in many moons, she was _excited. _

Maybe that was all she needed. All she'd ever needed. What she'd found.

She certainly hoped so. After all, Father Time was a beast, and without a sense of adventure, all the world's travelers were doomed to die bored and lonely and mangled off the side of the road.


	25. 20: Fake, part two

2.

Meeting with Yumi presented Sachiko with two unique challenges. The first was that she would need to sneak her past the perimeter without being spotted by anybody—certainly the employees of the Ogasawara estate would have been instructed to inform her mother if they noticed Sachiko with anybody on the grounds. The second was less concrete, but no less troubling—at some level, Sachiko understood that it was entirely possible that she would have to make a decision during the meeting which could change the course of her life, more or less forever. This would also have to be done without being spotted.

It was hard to make life-changing decisions when looking over one's shoulder.

She could try and sneak Yumi into her room. Her room was more or less soundproof (all of the rooms in the house were—it would not do for a guest to be _heard _at a party when he had decided to retire with one of the younger ladies, who may or may not have been his wife, for the evening.) but the house was not, and _it _was bustling with activity. She was getting married soon, after all. There was a wedding. She and Suguru were to be married. Wedded forever in eternal _fucking _bliss. Boy, that was a hoot. Eternal fucking bliss. Eternal bliss fucking, but certainly not each other. Maybe not even once. Not ever. Maybe if she hadn't loved him, that wouldn't be as bad. Maybe then she could just do the responsible thing, marry him, and fuck whomever she pleased, but she couldn't. Because she loved him. And she could also love other people. But she couldn't love them both at once, and as long as she was with Suguru, and as long as he didn't love her, she would not be able to stop loving him. That was the way of it, wasn't it? You loved somebody until they loved you back, and then you probably had ten more good years. So if Suguru had a change of heart—not to mention of sexual orientation—when they were both around eighty, they could die in love, and how many people could really say that? But he wouldn't, and she knew it, because that wasn't how it worked, no matter what the hard-liners said. It wasn't a choice. It was just how a person was. It was how God made them.

So she had to quit him, and she knew it, because she couldn't do that sausage-on-the-side bullshit like her father could. Like her mother probably did.

_She does, and look what it makes her do. _

_Look what it makes her do to _me.

_Focus, Sachiko._

_Focus._

It was easy to feel bitter.

It was harder to grow some stones and fight.

So sneaking Yumi in was probably not an option, unless there was a very convenient vine growing outside her window. For the hell of it, she opened the window carefully, stuck her head out, and checked—there wasn't. It was actually quite a long way down. Longer than her bedsheets.

_(come on Sachiko I'll show you how soft the bedsheets are why d)_

_No. Focus._

So she would have to go with the blunt approach and walk right out the front door, which meant she would probably be followed, albeit at a great distance. If she could sneak out of the house she might be in the clear—it wasn't as though the edges of her property were patrolled, though there were some troublingly high walls.

There was another issue. There was a camera at the gate to her property. Could she get Yumi to climb the walls somewhere? Maybe hug the wall to stay out of its line of sight? No, that was overdoing it.

_This tactical espionage action crap doesn't suit me. _

It really didn't.

Why, then, would they deny Yumi entrance to the property? Probably because she was a member of the group that had whisked her off for a free-and-easy weekend in Kyoto.

_But that was just fun._

_It's not as though they _know _anything. _

_Suguru does. I'd put money on that if anybody sees Yumi on the property, with or without me, she'll be escorted off the property within ten minutes. After all, there's a wedding to be planned. _

_Let him explain it, though. Let him explain to a guard that he doesn't want me seeing my_ petite soeur _because he thinks we're lovers. Let him explain it to my _mother.

Because that was the thing about _polite society. _You never said anything like that directly. You implied it, strongly, and usually your message was gotten. But what about a message like this? Something so absurd that it would be positively silly if it weren't very nearly true.

_(We're not lovers.)_

_(Not _yet._)_

The thought gave her a little shiver. She liked it.

So, there was a very simple answer to her issue. If Suguru and her mother wanted to strongarm her, she would strongarm them right back. Suguru could talk circles around most people, but not Sachiko, and if he tried, he'd lose. Her mother didn't know a damn thing about why Suguru was so dead-set against them meeting, she only knew that Suguru said it would be best.

_And isn't it an Ogasawara family trait for the women to accept unquestioningly what the men tell them?_

_Isn't it an Ogasawara family trait for the women to accept unquestioningly what _anybody _tells them? _

Fuck that.

She sent Yumi a text message asking her to call her cellular phone when she was in sight of the gate, and then put on a simple outfit—jeans and a blouse, and a black shirt over it. She wore sneakers, something she rarely wore. She supposed it would be more beneficial to dress up, look the part of an Ogasawara woman, but that was the image she was trying to avoid, so she would have to make do.

She plopped her cell phone back in her pocket.

_Was that the first time you've ever sent a text message?_

_I think it was._

She went downstairs. The place was more or less empty, but that was not entirely true. There were plenty of people in the Ogasawara residence, if you knew where to look. For example, there was a room that should have been a closet nearby, which was actually where the guard was. That would be her next goal.

Besides, she was getting _married._ There were bound to be people here. Somebody had to tell her how to do it. She wondered if her mother had hired somebody to teach her how to please Suguru on their first night together. _(What a joke.)_

She got to the closet where the guard was stationed.

This was going to be the real trick. The timing, for one, but more than that, the execution. It wouldn't hinge on _him_, and she knew it—in the end, he was employed by her family, and it would take less planning and more of a firm display of will to convince him of such, but that was where the problem lay—it would be, for all practical purposes, her first true flex of that particular muscle.

_I'm not getting any younger sitting here thinking about it, am I? _

She stepped away from the door enough to shield her voice, and then flipped her phone open and dialed the house driver, who, of course, answered on the first ring. Unless he was out already, in which case the point was moot. Her family had more cars than it did drivers, and that was what she was counting on.

"What can I do for you, Miss Ogasawara?" the driver asked by way of greeting.

"I'm very sorry," she said, forcing a bit of sheepish humility into her voice—something she was well-accustomed to, in the event that she somehow _offended _one of her guests, "but I was in the midst of baking something for my _grande soeur, _who should be arriving at the house shortly, and we seem to have run short on milk. Could I trouble you to head to the store and pick up a liter of it, please?"

"Of course, Miss Ogasawara. Will you be wanting it delivered to the kitchen?"

"Please."

"I will take care of it at once, then."

"Thank you very much," she said, again sheepishly. "I'm sorry for the trouble." _Never apologize to the help, _they had said, but they could royally fuck themselves.

"Not at all, Miss Ogasawara," the driver said. "I'll be hanging up now." And he did.

The next thing Sachiko did was go to the kitchen and write a small note:

_Dear Mr. Ougura—I'm so inobservant! Not five minutes after I sent you for milk, I found some in a refrigerator in the basement. I'm afraid I've troubled you for nothing. Please leave the milk in the kitchen refrigerator. I'm very sorry for the trouble _.

--_Sachiko Ogasawara_

She left it there and went back to waiting outside the closet. The timing of this would be key, but she knew roughly how long it took Yumi to get here by both car and bus, and they were not too far apart. She had timed it right. She had to have.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

She took a breath, and opened the door to the closet. It was not locked. The guard jumped in shock—he probably had been told he would be well-hidden, because who would use a closet in such a large house, they'd just forget which one they left whatever they were storing in—but said nothing. Maybe he just wasn't used to being intruded upon.

She answered her phone. "Hello, _Onee-sama_," she said. The guard looked at her strangely, and Sachiko looked at him for a moment.

Yumi said, "Wait, what? _Onee-sama_?"

"Yes, I'll send a car out for you," Sachiko said, and then paused a moment, ignoring Yumi's near-sputtered protests. "I'm sorry the bus didn't drop you off closer. Just wait at the end of the property, there's no need for you to overexert yourself. Yes, I'll send somebody right out. Yes, good bye." And she closed the small phone.

The guard had regained his composure by this point and said, "Is there anything I can help you with, Miss Ogasawara?"

"Yes, could you please send a car out for my _grande soeur?_" Sachiko said. "I've asked her to come tell me what she thinks of my dress, but unfortunately, she is currently short her car, and had to take the bus. She should be near the end of the road at this point."

The guard may have protested on many counts, but he did not. Maybe he was honestly not suspicious, or, more likely, he just didn't care enough to lose his job. That was the thing about hired help—more often than not, they were only that. They had their own lives. If they were told to inform Suguru in the event that Yumi Fukuzawa showed up on the property, then that was what they would do. They would not question her if she told them to send a car out for somebody else. That wasn't their job, and they weren't getting paid overtime for this shit.

The guard pushed a small button on a console nearby, waited a moment, and received no response, frowned. "I'm afraid the driver seems to be away from his post."

"I see," she frowned. "Could he be out?"

"He may well be. Shall I fetch a car myself?"

"That won't be necessary," Sachiko said, keeping her voice level in spite of the fact that her chest was trembling with nerves. What if he insisted? What if there was a reserve driver? Hell, what if Yumi didn't get the message—that she should just stand and wait at the end of the property—and while she was on her way to get a car, she showed up at the gate? "I'll go out myself—she is my _grande soeur_, after all. Could you please just open the gate for us?"

"Of course, Miss Ogasawara."

She bowed slightly, thanked him, and started for the garage as quickly as she could, focusing her best at not tripping over her feet. Her hands were trembling, hard. When she made it to the garage, she selected the nearest car to the exit, and prayed the keys would be in the ignition already—if they were not, she didn't know if she could get them in with her hands shaking as hard as they were. As it turned out, she needn't have worried—when she got in, there was a key sitting happily in the ignition. She started the car and tried her best not to tear out of the garage and off the property. It was hard for her not to simply floor the gas, but she didn't.

Yumi, as it turned out, had gotten the message, and had even hidden herself a bit by leaning against the outer wall. It was most unladylike, and in another time and place, Sachiko might have chastised her for it. As it was, it just seemed to fit. When she saw her _petite soeur, _she could not help it—she burst into a grin. She rolled down the window, and said, "Please get in the back, Yumi."

Yumi didn't question her. In truth, and Sachiko would never know this, nobody seeing the woman's face at that time would have questioned her, so determined it was.

Sachiko turned around and drove right through the front gate, which was sitting open for her, taking a moment to roll her window down and bow thankfully at the camera. The gate closed behind her.

_The best way to avoid being seen is still to walk right in through the front door. _

They pulled into the driveway, and sat there for a second, and then Sachiko shook her head. _Gotta keep moving. _"Come on, Yumi. Let's see if we can make it to my room."

Yumi frowned. "Make it…?"

Sachiko grinned a bit more widely than she ought to have, and turned around to face her _petite soeur. _"Make it," she said. "You, uh." _Do not use stupid words like _uh. _(get fucked, should I use that instead?) _"Are not technically supposed to be here. No, not technically, that's the wrong word. Unofficially, you are considered _politely-escort-out-on-sight._"

"I see," Yumi frowned. "_Onee-sama, _I don't want to be a bo—"

_Never interrupt somebody. There is nothing that smacks of impatience, and of ill breeding, quite like speaking when somebody else is speaking. Give them a two second (dose of shut the fuck up, I have no time for you, you haggard bitch) _"I think it's too late for silly things like that, Yumi. Don't you?" _After all…_

(admit it)

_Isn't what I'm doing much akin to being a permanent bother to her? And her to me?_

(that's very cynical)

_It's very _me.

"Besides, I'm enjoying myself more than I have" _excluding that night _"in years. You should have seen the fast one I pulled on the man who was supposed to be driving this car."

"Fast one?"

Sachiko outright grinned at Yumi. "I'll tell you later. Come on." She got out of the car, and Yumi followed her, around the car and towards the door. Just as Sachiko touched the door, the garage door started opening. Yumi gave a small shriek, and Sachiko grabbed her hand and they fled. Hopefully before they were seen, but if not, who cared? At this point, Sachiko was prepared to barricade herself in her room. She would not need long to say what she needed to say, in absolute terms, anyway—there were very few words to it. As to whether or not she would be able to say it in any reasonable length of time, that was another story.

They sped through the kitchen—after all, that was where the driver would be going. Sachiko checked her note to make sure it was still in place on their way by, and then they were into a hallway.

_No, that closet is in here. What if he has to use the bathroom? _They kept going, curved around at the stairway, headed up to the second floor. To Sachiko's left, towards her room, she heard the chatter of maids, probably making up a guest room. Unfortunately, the house did not curve around into a full circle, and so barring putting Yumi in a suitcase she wasn't going to get by them.

_We have to get out of the hallway. _

She pulled Yumi to her right, and Yumi protested very briefly with a "Isn't your room that wa—"

Sachiko started to put a finger to her own lip, thought better of it, put it to Yumi's instead. The move was so overused in popular culture that alone, it had lost its effect, but the touch startled the girl into silence.

_I can do this in a guest room, too. I can. _

Unfortunately, there was only one guest room off to this side, and the door was flung wide open. There was very little noise coming from inside, but Sachiko peaked her head around the corner, saw a maid working quietly in on what amounted to little more than a glorified turndown. There was, after all, going to be a wedding. She let go of Yumi's hand briefly, dashed across the opening while the woman had her back turned.

Yumi blinked at her, mouthed something like _what now?_

Sachiko peeked in on the maid again, then looked down the hall past Yumi, saw that the maids were piling used bedsheets in the hall. They weren't taking their time at it, but even so. Sachiko peeked inside again, her heart beginning to pound. _What if they decided to come out for a smoke break? What if one of them tries to get chatty with me? Did anybody tell them about Yumi? Does--_

Yumi smiled at Sachiko and dashed across the opening, grabbed her hand, and took off, stopping and knocking on the nearest door. Nobody responded, so she opened the door and pulled them both inside.

And that was how through no fault of her own, Sachiko's plan was diverted from her own room to a guest bedroom to a guest bathroom.

At least there was a good lock on it.

--

_There's not much more that I can fake._

_--_

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the rush of the moment sink in, maybe, or maybe just not sure what to say now that they had actually found a place to be alone, albeit a very bad one.

Eventually, Yumi said, "So."

It was a start. Not much of one, though. Sachiko said, "That was quite something, wasn't it?"

Yumi frowned at her, and Sachiko felt something low kick at her stomach. She was either very nervous, or quite pregnant.

"I can't believe we ended up in a bathroom, though. It doesn't seem right for…"

Yumi didn't say anything.

_What the hell are you doing?_

"Oh, I wonder if we'll ever see that Ryuusuke or Kyoko again. They were such lovely…"

_You had something to say to her. You called her over here. You made a hell of a deal of getting her in a place where you could be alone together. Is it that this isn't where you envisioned doing it? Or are you just turning chicken-shit on me? _

"_Onee-sama_," Yumi started, but for the second time in less than ten minutes, Sachiko cut her off.

"Let me get to it, Yumi," she said gently. "Please."

_How are you planning on getting to it? By talking about the weather? _

What was the best way to get through something like this? She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn't know _what_ she wanted to say.

_You could go with a fancy metaphor. Have you ever seen an old couple walking down the street holding hands? Well, me neither because it would be inappropriate of them, but it's sure cute on the dramas, isn't it?_

_Maybe just grab her and throw her to the ground and take her as you want her?_

_Should I lead into it? What if she doesn't even swing that way? Oh God. _It seemed almost a little late for that. _She's locked in here in a bathroom with me. I don't want her getting nervous. I don't want her feeling trapped or pressured. Go on a date with me or you're never getting out of this bathroom, Goldilocks. God, this is all wrong, there was never any right but there's damn sure a wrong and this is it I can't_

Sachiko had a very distinct memory of her mother, one of her favorites, from when she was very young. Her mother, still young and pretty and happy, read to her from a book, and to a seven year-old girl, her voice was like the singers she heard on the radio. It was charming and distinct, light and airy, but with a strength underneath it that she would not have believed could succumb to something as insignificant as time. It sounded like nothing less and nothing more than lying outside on the warm grass with the sun on her face.

It was in that voice, not in the half-frenzied voice concerned with nothing more than the outcome of her dinner parties and to hell with the psychological impact on her children, that Sachiko's mother said to her, in her mind or maybe divinely whispered in her ear, _Sachiko, dear, you think too much. _

Sachiko took a very deep breath. Maybe she wanted to get it all out in one go. There weren't that many words to it, though, not really. No crazy metaphors, no casual lead-ins. No _I have something I've wanted to say to you for years, _no relentless stammering like a silly little schoolgirl making her first confession. (Something Sachiko had no experience with anyway.) Just four words. Easy ones, but hard ones, too.

She said, "Yumi, I love you," and exhaled.

Yumi inhaled, but said nothing, her face a fascinating mixture of surprise and … something else that Sachiko couldn't place. If she had really wanted to know what it was, she could have looked at Yumi's eyes, because those couldn't lie like the rest of the face, but she didn't.

_What is _she _thinking? Is she shocked? Is she even surprised? Is she about to tell me she's got a boyfriend? _

_Of course not, you silly girl, _her mother told her. _She is giving you a moment to wonder all these things._

_But why?_

The smile in her mother's voice was almost palpable, and seemed to simply melt into Sachiko's face, causing her to smile herself. It was a voice Sachiko had never known, and yet had known all along; the voice of a mother giving her daughter her first advice on love, born from years of experience. Regretful, yes, because it meant her daughter was turning into a woman and she would miss her daughter, the little girl, but happy, too, because her daughter was turning into a woman, and she would be proud of her daughter, the woman. _Because it's the ladylike thing to do. A lady must be coy, too. _

After those ten beats had passed—Sachiko had counted without even realizing it, Yumi said, "_Onee…_Sachiko. How long have you been waiting to tell me this?"

"Not long," Sachiko admitted, and it was true. She basically got it out as soon as it came to her head. _Oh God just answer me. _"And…I could be mistaken, but I think I just did it in a bathroom."

"Planning is key, _Onee-sama_," Yumi said, echoing something she had once been told to her by none other than Sachiko herself. They stared at each other for a moment, Sachiko with some horror, Yumi with a bit too (it was doubtful she could believe that had actually come out of her mouth) and then burst into giggles. Somewhere along the way, Yumi's hand found that of her _grande soeur, _and some time after that, they were chest to chest, still giggling, but now experiencing the unique, wonderful tickling sensation of holding someone else who is giggling.

After a while, their laughter subsided. A while later, Yumi murmured, "Sachiko, I love you." Not _Onee-sama_. Sachiko.

Yumi sounded … grown up.

Probably she was. Probably she had been for longer than Sachiko herself.

Probably if she had planned this they wouldn't have ended up in a bathroom.

Probably it was okay that they had.

They held each other some more.

"So then…what?" Yumi said after a while. "You're still engaged to Suguru."

Sachiko said, "Suguru is engaged to my company. You … know about him, don't you?"

"No."

"Really?"

"What is there to know?"

"He's …not particularly interested in women."

Yumi blinked. "I don't think I have any ground to be shocked on at this point."

"No you do not," Sachiko said, and they giggled again.

"So then, what?" Yumi repeated.

"So then, nothing," Sachiko said. "I'm not marrying him. I can't, and I never could, I think. I just liked fooling myself into thinking I could. I can't do what mother does, and mother gets attention from father once and a while."

"So then, what?"

"I'll call the wedding off, simple as that."

"I can't imagine he'll be happy about it."

"I think he'll be overjoyed."

"You do?"

"Think about it. Suguru is smart and cunning. Don't you think he'd get bored if somebody simply dropped one of the largest conglomerates in Japan into his lap? This way, there will turn out to be a power struggle, and he'll turn out on top."

"Suguru seems like the type to be grateful for what he has."

"Oh, he is." She knew that all too well. "But that doesn't mean he wouldn't prefer it this way."

And in her heart, Sachiko knew he would. Why?

"Because I would too." And it was the truth.

Being handed things was dull. It was terrible. You got all the responsibility that having that thing entailed without any of the fun or the sense of respect that the process of _getting _brought. She had been handed things all her life, and she fucking hated them. Hated them. Yumi, she'd had to fight for.

And she loved Yumi.

And she thought for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, she always would.

_For another day, Sachiko._

For another day.

She stood up after that, and Yumi got up with her, and they walked out into the halls holding hands. They walked downstairs and the driver stared openly at Sachiko, and then remembered he was supposed to be terminating Yumi on sight. He informed her that the Ogasawara property was very busy getting ready for the coming wedding, and though it was rude, asked her if she might come back another day. Sachiko looked at him for a moment, and he saw their hands intertwined, not palm to palm like friends, but fingers interlaced. Like lovers.

He smiled for a moment. Perhaps appreciating the irony. Perhaps simply relieved not to have to face Sachiko's wrath.

Sachiko told him she would take Yumi home when Yumi was ready to go home, and the driver said, _of course._

After that, they walked out onto that new veranda. The one that had just been repaired, that Suguru had suggested they spend the day on.

It started to rain shortly afterwards.

It really was nice in the rain.

_I could live forever here, _Sachiko thought at one point. She remembered very little else. Few thoughts, fewer words. Another man might have said that this was one of the greatest cruelties of life—that our happiest, most carefree moments didn't engage the brain enough to really form vivid memories. Sachiko would have told him otherwise.

They formed impressions more vivid than any moment, like laugh lines on an old woman's face. She certainly would never be able to tell you where she got them—who could remember all the times she has laughed, after all—but she could tell you _how _she got them, and that was the important part. She got them by being happy. By laughing a lot. By experiencing the only things that make life worthwhile.

As they sat outside, far past dark, after the rain had stopped, simply resting on one another, sometimes talking, occasionally kissing, most often dozing while staring into the clear, dark sky, and enjoying the air after an evening rain (truly one of the greatest things a man or woman on God's green earth could experience) Sachiko formed an impression that would last her until the day that she died.


	26. 20: Fake, epilogue

Epilogue

Suguru had been informed of Yumi's presence, but also of the way in which she was present. The hands, but more, that slightly crimson, entirely joyful, color on her face. He was in his office at the time, working on a proposal to expand several manufacturing operations to China; in truth, he had a whole drawer full of these proposals. Some would probably never see the light of day, like an author's ubiquitous drawer of unused ideas, but more, he was confident, would. When the man informed him, he nodded and pretended to take notes—_notes, _for the love of god, on what? On Sachiko finding a good woman? What a joke, but he was expected to take notes on everything. He was learning, after all, and observing; he actually drew a rough sketch of a cat—and then dismissed the man. After the man left, he examined the sketch of the cat, made a few quick corrections, and thought he might frame it. Was this a happy event? Certainly for Sachiko. And hell, maybe for him too.

It was the end of something easy, was what it was. And the beginning of something fun. And there was a certain sense of relief about it, as well: He, he knew, would have been just fine marrying Sachiko, but Satoru wouldn't have been okay with it, not for long, and Satoru would have left before long. And Satoru deserved more than that anyway. Than being his eternal _dirty little secret. _He had his own damn life, and his own goals, and a man had to be settled, have peace in his life, before he could pursue his goals.

He thought about it for a while, and then called Satoru.

Satoru was very happy about it. He was fine being told that it would be rough times ahead. That Suguru would be a very busy man for a while, because he would come out on top. Had to. That, Satoru said, was fine. He could handle busy. He was busy himself. Being a teacher was not an easy thing, after all.

In truth, Suguru was happy too.

After all, one of the greatest disadvantages to being rich, to be simply handed wealth, was that you never got to look back on how you got it, because really, that was the fun part. That was why the very rich never stopped making money; not because they felt they needed it, but because they wanted to see how much they could make. Because it was fun, because it was a challenge. (But after a while, the challenge grew weak—after all, vast amounts of money practically grew themselves.)

They chatted for a while after that. Suguru hung up eventually, telling him he had a picture of a cat to frame. Satoru asked him what the hell he was talking about, and Suguru said it would be his anniversary present. Satoru sputtered, and Suguru told him he loved him and hung up laughing.

The challenging part would be telling the parents, he knew. Not his own; they knew and they didn't give a flying fuck. They had been relegated to the edge of the family long ago, getting a generous monthly stipend and basically just living their lives in more comfort than a manga artist and a journalist could have expected otherwise. His father had always told him he loved his brother, but that lifestyle wasn't really for him, anyway.

That was fine. To each their own. That was what he believed, and that was what had killed him about having to fetch Sachiko; but if he was to get in by marriage, he had to appear to be a strong candidate. Now that he didn't have to worry about marriage, he could do things his way.

A while later, he called Sachiko, and congratulated her. Sachiko was very even with him; if she had any surprise about him knowing so quickly, she suppressed it. But, there was something … awkward about the whole thing.

_Right. The whole _rejected lover _bit. _

"We'll need to tell your parents," Suguru said. "It's not going to be pretty."

"What's there to tell them?"

Suguru frowned. "I mean, about…"

"Is it really their business? We're not getting married, I'm going to college, and—" _And if they don't like it, they can sit on it and shove it up their ass. _Suguru grinned. "If they don't like it, it's their problem. I'm still my own person, and legally, they cannot take that away from me."

This was not the careful, restrained Sachiko he had known at all.

He liked this Sachiko much better.

"Even the wedding will cause trouble. Weddings are an expensive business even before they're put on."

"I think that even with this financial setback the Ogasawara family will find itself safely in the black this year," Sachiko said dryly, and Suguru thought, that if he _were _capable of being interested in women, he would very much like this one.

"And…they may well cut you off."

Sachiko said nothing for a moment, and then, "You know, I want to be an author. I decided that. I'm going to study literature in college, graduate, and start writing."

"That's…not always a very lucrative profession." Not usually, actually, especially with most of the contracts that young authors and artists were made to sign. Ogasawara, after all, had its fingers in the publishing pie as well.

"I once read, I don't remember where, that if somebody writes something and sells it, and they receive a check, cash the check, which does not bounce, and use the money to go home and pay the lighting bill, they can be considered a good author." Suguru heard this and he saw all the lessons Sachiko had learned, with none of the directives they had come with. Smart, coy, articulate; capable of gently redirecting a conversation into a lucrative direction without the added directive of _but never do it except for social gain._

He laughed. Honestly and heartily. That was beautiful. Wonderful. He loved it. They were silent for a while, and then he said, "If you do ever need help, though…not now, but maybe five years down the road…"

"Then I'm sure I'll have other friends to turn to," Sachiko said sharply, then after a moment, her tone softened. "I'm sorry. That was harsh." A bit of the old Sachiko.

"I'm a tough boy," Suguru said. "And there's no need to be a lady around me."

"If I am really in trouble, I will call you, Suguru."

"Fair deal. I'm sure I'll see you again before you go off to university."

"You may just."

They hung up. No goodbyes. No tearful thank-yous. Why bother? They were a tough lot.

--

Sachiko's parents did not take it well at all, or at least, not publically. Her mother went into something which resembled hysterics, and her father actually stormed out, slammed the door. Sachiko was, indeed, cut off.

However, after the door was slammed, Sachiko's mother's hysterics stopped immediately. She smiled at the two of them, and said, "You know, you two would have made a good couple."

"No, mother," Sachiko said. "We really wouldn't have."

"I suppose," the older woman shrugged. "You really have made it hard on yourselves, though. Both of you. Suguru, you are not going to have an easy time if you still plan on advancing through the company."

Suguru shrugged. "I'll be going to university in the fall. If I apply myself I'm pretty sure I can graduate in three years, have my masters in four. I would hazard a guess that none of the other candidates for this job get a degree that fast."

"Taro is close to his Master's right now, in America."

"How's his GPA looking?"

Sachiko's mother grinned then, and Sachiko saw a glimpse of the fiery woman who had birthed her. "Not great, I'll tell you. He seems to have met a very pretty lady who enjoys drinking and cavorting about a great deal."

_A man must have peace in his life before he can pursue his goals. _

"I'll make it, then. I'm the best, and you know it and so do I."

Sachiko's mother smiled. "I do indeed."

"So then…what?" Sachiko asked. "Shall I just…pack my things? The semester starts in little over a month, and I'm sure I can stay with Yumi until then. Or Sei, or someone."

"I'll not have you imposing on them like that," her mother snapped, and then frowned a second. "I'm sorry. The point is, I'll make sure you have a place to live. And frankly, I'll make sure you have a little extra."

"Mother, you—"

"A mother is supposed to put her child through college. It's one of our duties, and one I'll not miss out on. Your father is not furious either, you know, but he does have to cut you off." Her mother had a shaky note in her voice but she said what she needed to say clearly, and Sachiko understood.

In truth, it was hardly his money anyway. It was tied up in stocks and investments, half of which had dubious ownership rights to begin with. If the board decided it, they could make him…not a _poor _man, but a man with much less to his name. And that was fine. Appearances, after all.

People at heart were not bad, not really, not usually. But there were expectations which hit them from every angle, and the more public, the more influential they became, the more expectations they had to deal with. Some of them could do it; some couldn't. Sachiko's mother had been one that couldn't, and it had done terrible things to her, but she was still a mother at heart, first and foremost. The Ogasawara group was a fucking huge conglomerate and a lot of people depended on it for their livelihood, and a sudden ousting of such skilled leadership would benefit none of them. Her father knew that, and he did what he had to. Another woman might have resented him for it—after all, it was a _lot _of money she was going to lose, but not Sachiko. Sachiko had grown up with that money, and nobody had asked her if she wanted it or not, so she had decided without anybody asking, and probably he understood that. She wanted to give it a run without the money. If she was truly talented as an author, she would make enough to live comfortably with. If not, well…she was smart. There were other things she could do, more lucrative ones.

But whatever they were, they were hers, and hers alone.

She moved out two days later into a nice apartment in urban Tokyo. Her father gave her a hug and a wad of 10,000 yen notes, and told her he loved her and he'd be in touch. Her mother did more or less the same. Nobody was around to see it. Now that the pressure of marriage and succession had vanished from their lives, Sachiko's parents behaved very much like real people. She wished she'd gotten to know those people better.

She had a housewarming party, and invited the entire Rose Council, past and present. Sei and Shimako seemed closer than they had been, but she might have been just been jumping to conclusions based on the way they entered holding hands and were caught at one point tossing each other _gazes_. Youko brought her boyfriend, a handsome man with an effeminate, easy smile who fit in with a large group of girls more easily than might have made Youko comfortable. Rei and Yoshino looked a little dejected, because apparently Yoshino had gotten it into her head to study abroad in America, which meant a year apart. Sachiko, however, knew they would be more than fine. They were closer than anybody she had ever met. A lot of laughs traded hands, as did a bit of alcohol, and Sachiko found that she could laugh more freely. That night she shared her bed with Yumi, and didn't have to be sneaky about it in the least; she simply called cabs for everyone but Yumi, and then invited her to bed afterwards. Her mother had nothing to say about it whatsoever; in fact, she hadn't heard internally from her mother in a long time.

Maybe it was because, as hard as it was, she was a big girl now. A woman. And a woman loved her mother, but a woman was not her mother, and as long as a mother still had a hand in controlling a woman's life there would always be that pull, to be who her mother was. It wasn't malicious. It was natural. It was just the way things went.

Two weeks later, Sachiko moved into her dorm at Tokyo University. Yumi didn't live with her, it was too late to change her living arrangements (and frankly, not a great idea anyway—Sachiko felt as though it would have been okay, but wanted to do this properly) but lived only a few blocks away. They had one class together, and they walked there holding hands every day.

They made a lot of memories there, ones that made more imprints in Sachiko than any other time up until that point. She developed laugh lines. She put on a little weight, lost it, put it back on again. She learned to cook for herself, and learned to hold her liquor. She got a part-time job, quit it, got a better one. She pulled a few all nighters, cursed a few deadlines as sons of bitches, and got her first short story into the campus literary review her sophomore year. She and Yumi fought, made up, and made love many times.

And after that?

That is for nobody but the two themselves.

The end.

I'd like to thank my editor, Sumiregawa_Nenene, for faithfully sticking with me for these past two plus years, editing this mess into something mildly fit for human consumption, and I'd like to thank you, dear readers, for sticking with me too, till the end. It's been a long haul, and I feel sad to see it go, because it was my baby, but there will be others, too. Probably.

I couldn't have done it, though, without all of you. Thank you, and have a wonderful day.


End file.
